He held it with the other and shook it, and moaned dismally, like a great girl; but suddenly looking up he saw a half grin upon the faces of his myrmidons.
For the contrast of a man telling another who was in pain not to make a row, and the next moment making an abominable row himself for no better reason, was funny.
For all this occurred ten times quicker in action than in relation.
Mr. Hawes's conversion to noise came rapidly in a single sentence, after this fashion:
“—— you! hold your infernal noise. Oh! Augh! Ah! E E! E E! Aah! Oh! Oh!; E E!E E! O O!O O! O O! O O! O O!O O!”
So Fry and Hodges and Evans and Davis grinned.
For all these men had learned from Hawes to laugh at pain—(another's). One man alone did not even smile. He was an observer, and did not expect any one to be great at bearing pain who was rash in inflicting it; moreover, he suffered with all who suffer. He was sorry for the pilloried biped, and sorry for the bitten brute.
He then gave them another lesson. “All you want the poor thing to do is to suffer in silence. Withdraw twenty yards from him.” He set the example by retreating; the others, Hawes included, being off their guard, obeyed mechanically the superior spirit.
Carter's cries died away into a whimpering moan. The turnkeys looked at one another, and with a sort of commencement of respect at Mr. Eden.
“Parson knows more than we do.”