"Let me help you to get up, ma'am," he said politely.
He caught hold of her swollen right hand. The sudden pain forced a sharp scream from her lips.
"Not that hand, please, sir; the other," she said. She put out her left hand.
"Nay, I'll lift you altogether," he said. "Why, you are no weight at all. Are you badly hurt, ma'am?"
"No, no, it's nothin'," said Grannie, panting, and breathing with difficulty.
"And where shall I take you to? You can't walk—you are not to attempt it. Is your home anywhere near here, ma'am?"
In spite of all her pain and weakness, a flush of shame came into the old cheeks.
"It is nigh here, very nigh," said Grannie, "but it aint my home; it's Beverley workhouse, please, sir."
"All right," said the man. He did not notice Grannie's shame.
The next moment he had pulled the bell at the dreary gates, and Grannie was taken in. She was conveyed straight up to the infirmary.