"Well, Dr. Greenpeel, us hasn't got no money, but——"
He stopped.
"I don't care about the money," Grenfell answered. "What's the trouble?"
"There's a man ashore wonderful sick, Doctor, if so be you'd come 'n' see him."
Dr. Grenfell was over the rail and in the fisherman's poor tub in a jiffy.
He was taken to a mean sod hut.
The only furniture was a stove that looked like a big tin can burst open.
The floor was of stones from the beach: the walls were mud. Six children were sitting in a corner, about as dirty as the mud walls, and just as quiet.
A woman in rags was giving spoonfuls of water to a man who lay on the one bed coughing till it seemed the poor fellow must cough himself to pieces.