you noticed that it was small and delicate in shape.

"Why, my boy!" exclaimed Mr. Burnham, "you have cut your hand. Let me
see."

"'Taint much, sir," the lad replied; "I often cut 'em a little. You're
apt to, a-handlin' the coal that way." The man had the little hand in
his and bent to examine the wound. "That's quite a cut," he said, "as
clean as though it had been made with a knife. Come, let's wash it off
and fix it up a little."

He led the way to the corner of the room, uncovered the water-pail,
dipped out a cup of water, and began to bathe the bleeding hand.

"That shows it's good coal, sir," said the boy, "Poor coal wouldn't
make such a clean cut as that. The better the coal the sharper 'tis."

"Thank you," said Mr. Burnham, smiling. "Taking the circumstances into
consideration, I regard that as the best compliment for our coal that
I have ever received."

The hand had been washed off as well as water without soap could do
it.

"I guess that's as clean as it'll come," said the boy. "It's pirty
hard work to git 'em real clean. The dirt gits into the corners so,
an' into the chaps an' cuts, an' you can't git it all out, not even
for Sunday."

The man was looking around for something to bind up the wound with.