"But your arm!" I suggested, pointing to the bloody stains on his coat sleeve. "I am not unskilled in such matters, if——"
"I doubt not, sir; but I have one at hand, I make bold to say, has forgotten more than you ever learned of cures and simples."
He went to the door by which we had entered and clapped his hands.
"Ho, Goody! Art abed after all?"
"Abed! Abed!" answered a thin, old voice that was inexpressibly sweet, with a Dorset burr that made Master Robert's sound like the twang of a Londoner. "The lad is mad! Gadding around at all hours of the night; aye, sparking in his old age, I'll be bound, with never a thought to his granny at home or the worries he pours on her head. Abed! says he. When did I ever feel the sheets, and not knowing he was warm and safe and his posset-cup where it belongs—which is in his stomach! Abed! Didst ever find——"
She stepped into the room, a quaint little figure in hodden-gray, a dainty cap perched on her wispy white hair, her brown eyes gleaming in the candle-light, the criss-crossed wrinkles of her cheeks shining like a network of fine lace. In her hands she held a tray supporting a steaming flagon and divers covered dishes of pewterware.
Juggins favored me with a humorous glance.
"Sure, I grow more troublesome year by year, granny," he said as she paused at sight of me. "Here I am come home later than ever, bringing a guest with me."
But she made no answer, and as I looked closer at her I saw that she had perceived the blood on his sleeve. She tottered in her tracks, and I jumped to take the tray from her hands. But she regained her self-command, waved me away with a nod of her head and stepped quickly across the chamber to a table by the fire.
In an instant she was at Master Juggins' side and had stripped the coat off his arm and shoulder. Then she stepped back with a sigh of relief, and for the second time looked at me.