“Not at all; but if it had not been sharply attended to by your father you would have bled to death.”
“And how is our Sarah?” I said, eagerly.
“If you mean Captain Bruton’s housekeeper, she is badly wounded, but I have removed the arrow-head, and I think she will do. I suppose you are Master George?”
“Yes.”
“Then as soon as you can you must go and see the poor woman. She was talking constantly of you, and begged me to send you if we met.”
I thanked him, and left him emptying his pockets of strips of linen, threads, a box of something that made me think about pistols in the case at home, and then of some bottles, all of which he laid about in the most orderly manner, and I left him with a shudder, as I thought of what they were for.
As soon as I got outside I was accosted by Pomp, who came up to me, saying—
“Leg quite well now?”
“No; nor likely to be, Pomp.”
“Mass’ George better wear um in fling like Pomp arm. Missie Sarah want Mass’ George.”