This was a poser. Gertrude Canterton looked annoyed.
“Where’s your coat, Pennyweight?”
“Down by t’ hedge, mum.”
“If he had his coat on we should know just where to compress the artery.”
No one noticed Canterton and Lynette till the man and the child were within five yards of the group.
“What’s the matter?”
The lad faced round sharply, appeared to disentangle himself from the women, and to turn instinctively to Canterton.
“Cut m’ wrist, sir, with the swap ’ook.”
“We must stop that bleeding.”
He pulled out a big bandanna handkerchief, passed it round the lad’s arm, knotted it, and took a folding foot-rule from his pocket.