This is rather a serious wound.

The best thing is to bind it up at once.' Before any one could say another word Miss Falkland had whipped out her soft fine cambric handkerchief and torn it in two.
'Hold up your hand,' she said.

'Now, papa, lend me yours.' With the last she cleared the wound of the flowing blood, and then neatly and skilfully bound up the wrist firmly with the strips of cambric.

This she further protected by her father's handkerchief, which she helped herself to and finally stopped the blood with.
Jim kept looking at her small white hands all the time she was doing it.

Neither of us had ever seen such before--the dainty skin, the pink nails, the glittering rings.
'There,' she said, 'I don't think you ought to shear any more to-day; it might bring on inflammation.