Kit crossed to comfort him.
"It's all right, sir," he said tenderly, taking the other by the arm.
A hand plucked at his ankle.
"Little Chap," whispered a voice.
The boy looked down.
At his feet, propped on a straw-stuffed haversack against the wall, lay the Gentleman.
Kit was kneeling beside him in an instant.
"O, sir!" he cried, with sobbing heart.
The other tweaked his nose with tender fingers.
"Cela ne fait rien."