"Oh! Oh, dear!" screamed Freddie, who did not like the sight of the red
blood which oozed from the end of his brother's finger.

"Oh, don't get any on my clean blouse, else I can't go to the picnic!"

Bert, who had popped the cut finger into his mouth as soon as he felt
the hurt, now took it out to laugh.

"That's all you care about me, Freddie!" he joked. "I cut my finger,
while making you a little boat, and all you care about is that I mustn't
dirty your white blouse! I'll make you a lot more ships--I guess not!"

"Oh, but I am sorry for you!" Freddie declared. "Only I do so want to go
to the picnic!"

"Yes, I know," Bert went on, seeing that Freddie was taking his talk too
seriously. "I won't get any blood on you!"

"Is it much of a cut?" asked Nan "Do you want me to get the iodine?"
Their Mother had taught the Bobbsey twins not to neglect hurts of this
kind, and iodine, they knew, was good to "kill the germs," whatever that
meant. Iodine smarted when put into a cut, but it was better to stand a
little smart at first than a big pain afterward, so Daddy Bobbsey had
said.

"Oh, it isn't much of a cut," Bert said. "I guess I don't need any
iodine. You'd better go look after Flossie. The trucks may be along any
time now, and we don't want to keep them waiting."

"All right. But you'd better not whittle any more on that boat or you