He got Mrs.Montague to help him, and together they split matches, tore up strips of muslin, and bandaged the broken leg.

He put the little bird back in the cage, and it seemed more comfortable "I think he will do now," he said to Mrs.Montague, "but hadn't you better leave him with me for a few days ?" She gladly agreed to this and went away, after telling him that the bird's name was Dick.
The next morning at the breakfast table, I heard Carl telling his mother that as soon as he woke up he sprang out of bed and went to see how his canary was.

During the night, poor foolish Dick had picked off the splints from his leg, and now it was as bad as ever.

"I shall have to perform a surgical operation," he said.
I did not know what he meant, so I watched him when, after breakfast, he brought the bird down to his mother's room.

She held it while he took a pair of sharp scissors, and cut its leg right off a little way above the broken place.