It was a few days after the National that the vicar made one of his calls at Putnam's.
"What is it?" asked Mrs. Woodburn in her direct and simple way after the first greeting.
She knew he never came except on business.
"It's that wretched fellow Joses," he answered. "He's been in some scrape at the National, I gather, and got himself knocked about. Somehow he crawled back to his earth. I rather believe Mr. Silver paid his train-fare and saw him through."
"Is he dying?" asked Mrs. Woodburn.
The vicar replied that the parish nurse thought he was in a very bad way.
"Is she seeing to him?"
"She's doing what she can."
"We'd better ask Dr. Pollock to go round and look at him," said Mrs. Woodburn. "Don't you bother any more, Mr. Haggard. I'll see that the best is done."