The three-year-older's wound was of a formidable sort, and not one which the mother's surgery would have been equal to.

The flesh of the finger had been burst by a cruel accident.

It was the doctor that sewed it up, and to all appearances it was he, and the other independent witnesses, that did the main part of the suffering; each stitch that he took made Clara wince slightly, but it shrivelled the others.
I take pride in Clara's remark, because it shows that although she was only three years old, her fireside teachings were already making her a thinker--a thinker and also an observer of proportions.

I am not claiming any credit for this.

I furnished to the children worldly knowledge and wisdom, but was not competent to go higher, and so I left their spiritual education in the hands of the mother.