She turned and went out into the kitchen.
He could hear her working over the stove.

He saw her cross the room with a tea kettle, fill it with water from a pail, return and place the kettle on the stove.

He was determined that he would not allow her to dress the wound, but when ten minutes later she appeared in the kitchen door and told him she was ready, he got up and went reluctantly out.
She washed the arm, bathing the wound with a solution of water and some medicine which she poured from a bottle, and then bandaged it with some white cloth.

Neither said anything until after she had delicately tied a string around the bandage to keep it in place, and then she stepped back and regarded her work with satisfaction.
"There," she said; "doesn't that feel better ?" "Some," he returned, grudgingly.

He stood up and watched her while she spread a cloth partly over the table and placed some dishes and food upon it.