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Updated: May 2, 2025
"Forty pounds!" he said to his wife, after the official had departed. "Why didn't 'e offer me a bag o' sweets?" "It's a lot o' money," said Mrs. Scutts, wistfully. "So's a thousand," said her husband. "I ain't going to 'ave my back broke for nothing, I can tell you. Now, you keep that mouth o' yours shut, and if I get it, you shall 'ave a new pair o' boots."
In a few simple, manly words the latter apologized, by putting all the blame on Mrs. Scutts, and, removing his clothes, got into bed. Wrapped in bedclothes, they passed the following day listening for knocks at the door and playing cards. By evening both men were weary, and Mr. Scutts made a few pointed remarks concerning dodging doctors and deceitful visitors to which Mr.
Scutts, "but I can't stand! couldn't get out of bed." "Fearfully upset, he was, pore dear," testified Mrs. Scutts. "He can't bear losing a day. I s'pose I s'pose the railway company will 'ave to do something if it's serious, won't they, sir?" "Nothing to do with me," said the doctor. "I'll put him on the club for a few days; I expect he will be all right soon.
"Right-o," said the obliging Mr. Flynn. "Just step in and tell my landlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill." He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock at the front door at half-past eleven sent him off to sleep again. Mrs. Scutts, who was sitting downstairs, opened it and admitted her husband. "All serene?" he inquired. "What are you looking like that for? What's up?"
He closed his eyes languidly, and kept them closed until the men had departed. "Can't you walk, Bill?" inquired the tearful Mrs. Scutts. Her husband shook his head. "You go and fetch the doctor," he said, slowly. "That new one round the corner." "He looks such a boy," objected Mrs. Scutts. "You go and fetch 'im," said Mr. Scutts, raising his voice. "D'ye hear!" "But " began his wife.
Scutts, stammering and flushing. "Why, the pore man can't stir from his bed." "Well, I'll just peep in at the door, then," said the doctor. "I won't wake him. You can't object to that. If you do " Mrs. Scutts's head began to swim. "I'll go up and see whether he's awake," she said. She closed the door on them and stood with her hand to her throat, thinking.
"What for?" inquired Mr. Scutts, with a notable lack of interest. "For well, to go away for a day or two," said the visitor. "I find you in bed; it may be a cold or a bilious attack; or perhaps you had a little upset of the nerves when the trains kissed each other." "I'm in bed because I can't walk-or stand," said Mr. Scutts, speaking very distinctly.
Isn't it curious to wish so passionately for the day which may place them near to death again? But the longing for health is a simple instinct, undarkened by logic. Yet some of them have plans. Scutts has plans. For a fortnight now he has watched for the post. "Parcel come for me, Sister? Small parcel?" Or he will meet the postman in the corridor. "Got my eye yet?" he asks.
Mrs. Scutts, concealed behind the curtain, gazed at the cab in uneasy amazement. The cabman clambered down from the box and, opening the door, stood by with his hands extended ready for any help that might be needed. A stranger was the first to alight, and, with his back towards Mrs. Scutts, seemed to be struggling with something in the cab.
Scutts, impelled by a maddened arm, burst into the room. "Your back!" she moaned. "It'll kill you Get back to bed." "I'm cured, lovey," said Mr. Flynn, simply. "His back is as strong as ever," said the doctor, giving it a thump. Mr. Flynn, who had taken his clothes from a chair and was hastily dressing himself, assented.
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