"Doctors can do nought, I'm afeard.

All that a doctor could do, I take it, would be to open a vein, and that I could do along with the best of them, if I had but my fleam here." He fumbled in his pockets as he spoke, and, as chance would it, the "fleam" (or cattle lancet) was somewhere about his dress.

He drew it out, smoothed and tried it on his finger.

Ellinor tried to bare the arm, but turned sick as she did so.
Her father started eagerly forwards, and did what was necessary with hurried trembling hands.

If they had cared less about the result, they might have been more afraid of the consequences of the operation in the hands of one so ignorant as Dixon.