“I’m a-going,” and Mrs. Beatup seized the lamp and waddled out, followed by her scared and sleepy offspring.
In the passage a big soldier was propping up a Mus’ Beatup who looked as if he was stuffed with sawdust.
“He’s had a bit of a fall,” said the soldier as he staggered under his burden. “I was seeing him home like, and he slipped in the yard.”
“I reckon every boan in his body’s bruk,” said Mrs. Beatup—“that’s how he looks, surelye. Let him sit down, poor soul.”
Mus’ Beatup slid through the soldier’s arms to a sitting posture on the floor. Harry pushed forward and offered to help carry him into the kitchen.
“Someone ud better go fur a doctor,” said the escort. “I don’t like the look of him.”
Mrs. Beatup held the lamp to her husband’s face, and Harry at the same time recognised the soldier as the eldest Kadwell from Stilliands Tower—not he who had loved and ridden away from Jen Hollowbone, but another brother in the Engineers. Mus’ Beatup’s eyes were open and dazed, his mouth was open and dribbling, and his limbs were dangling forlornly. When they tried to pick him up, they found that his right leg was broken.
“Zacky—run up to Dallington and fetch Dr. Styles this wunst,” ordered Harry. “Tell him it’s a broken leg—he’ll have to bring summat to mend it with.”
Zacky ran off agog, and Nell, who had been through a first-aid course in the early days of her rivalry with Marian Lamb, forced herself to swallow her repulsion of the drunken, stricken figure on the passage floor, and come forward with advice.