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Updated: May 2, 2025
Scutts, in a feeble voice, thanked him, and lay with a twisted smile on his face listening to his wife's vivid narrative to the little crowd which had collected at the front door. She came back, followed by the next-door neighbour, Mr. James Flynn, whose offers of assistance ranged from carrying Mr.
Four pairs of hands deposited Mr. Scutts with mathematical precision in the centre of the bed and then proceeded to tuck him in, while Mrs. Scutts drew the sheet in a straight line under his chin. "Don't look much the matter with 'im," said one of the assistants. "You can't tell with a face like that," said the furniture-remover. "It's wot you might call a 'appy face.
Scutts out pick-a-back when he wanted to take the air, to filling his pipe for him and fetching his beer. "But I dare say you'll be up and about in a couple o' days," he concluded. "You wouldn't look so well if you'd got anything serious the matter; rosy, fat cheeks and " "That'll do," said the indignant invalid. "It's my back that's hurt, not my face." "I know," said Mr.
"He'll 'ave to stay in your bed," continued the voice of Mrs. Scutts. "He's got a good 'art, and I know he'll do it; won't you, Jim?" Mr. Flynn pondered. "Tell my landlady in the morning that I've took your back room," he said. "What a fortunit thing it is I'm out o' work. What are you walking up and down like that for, Bill? Back coming on agin?" "Then o' course," pursued the voice of Mrs.
"We won't disturb him," said the doctor, and, followed by his companion, noiselessly ascended the stairs and peeped into the room. Mr. Flynn was fast asleep, and not a muscle moved as the two men approached the bed on tip-toe and stood looking at him. The doctor turned after a minute and led the way out of the room. "We'll call again," he said, softly. "Yes, sir," said Mrs. Scutts. "When?"
"He mustn't go," said Mrs. Scutts. "Those gentlemen are coming again, and they think he is you." "WHAT!" roared the infuriated Mr. Scutts. "Don't you see? It's me what's got the pore back now, Bill," said Mr. Flynn. "You can't pass yourself off as me, Bill; you ain't good-looking enough." Mr. Scutts, past speech, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling.
Scutts, beyond remarking that he felt chilly, made no complaint. He endeavoured, but in vain, to perform the tests suggested, and even did his best to stand, supported by his medical attendant. Self-preservation is the law of Nature, and when Mr. Scutts's legs and back gave way he saw to it that the doctor was underneath.
"He's all right," said one of them, turning to Mrs. Scutts. A deep groan from Mr. Scutts confirmed the statement. "What is it?" inquired his wife, anxiously. "Just a little bit of a railway accident," said one of the strangers. "Train ran into some empty trucks. Nobody hurt seriously," he added, in response to a terrible and annoyed groan from Mr. Scutts. With his feet dragging helplessly, Mr.
He ate his tea in silence, and after he had finished lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking. "Penny for your thoughts," said his wife. "I'm going out," said Mr. Scutts, in a voice that defied opposition. "I'm going to 'ave a walk, and when I'm far enough away I'm going to 'ave one or two drinks. I believe this fog is sent a-purpose to save my life." Mrs.
Then, instead of going upstairs, she passed into the yard and, stepping over the fence, opened Mr. Flynn's back door. "Halloa!" said that gentleman, who was standing in the scullery removing mud from his boots. "What's up?" In a frenzied gabble Mrs. Scutts told him. "You must be 'im," she said, clutching him by the coat and dragging him towards the door.
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