That dour woman had, indeed, just two friends in Beachbourne. One was Mr. Trupp, and the other was Mr. Trupp's wife. Neither had ever failed her; and she knew quite well that neither ever would.
The day after the calamity she went round to see the Doctor.
"He's got to go," she said, tight-lipped and trembling. "That's flat. You know what I been through with his father, Mr. Trupp. You're the only one as does. I'm not going through it again with him. Ned's my man, and I'm going to see him through. But Ern must go his own way. Stew in his own juice, as Alf says. They say I've been hard with the boy. So I have. Because I've seen it a-comin ever since he was so high. And I've fought it and been beaten."
The gruff man was wonderfully tender with her. He saw the woman's distress and understood its cause as no other could have done.
"Don't do anything in a hurry," he said soothingly. "Think it over for a week and then come and see me again."
That evening he reported the interview to his wife.
"She'll never turn him out!" cried the kind woman.
"She will though," said Mr. Trupp.
Mrs. Trupp, pink and white with indignation, dropped her eyes to her work to hide the flash in them.
"I'll never forgive her if she does," she said.