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Updated: May 2, 2025
It's a fine thing if a man can't go out for 'arf a pint without coming home and finding all the riffraff of the neighbourhood in 'is bed." "'Ow's the pore back, Bill?" inquired Mr. Flynn, with tenderness. Mr. Scutts gurgled at him. "Outside!" he said as soon as he could get his breath. "Bill," said the voice of Mrs. Scutts, outside the door. "Halloa," growled her husband.
Scutts and Monk talk to me while I sew, but what about the Monks, Scutts, Gayners, whose wounds will never need a dressing or a tube who lie along a front of two miles, one on his face, another on his back? Since 3.15 this morning a lot of men have died. Thank God one cannot go on realizing death. But one need not think of it. This is a ward; here are lucky ones.
"I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!" said the visitor, jingling some coins in his trouser-pocket. "I never saw a man so pleased and grateful in my life. When he signed the receipt for it I always get them to sign a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven't kept the money for myself he nearly wept with joy." "I should think he would," said Mr. Scutts, slowly "if he wasn't hurt."
"A thousand!" exclaimed the startled Mrs. Scutts. "Have you took leave of your senses, or what?" "I read a case in the paper where a man got it," said Mr. Scutts. "He 'ad his back 'urt too, pore chap. How would you like to lay on your back all your life for a thousand pounds?" "Will you 'ave to lay abed all your life?" inquired his wife, staring. "Wait till I get the money," said Mr.
"I 'ad to be helped 'ome. So far it seems to get worse, but I 'ope for the best." "Dear me," said the visitor; "how sad! I suppose it has been coming on for a long time. Most of these back cases do. At least all the doctors say so." "It was done in the collision," said Mr. Scutts, mildly but firmly. "I was as right as rain before then." The visitor shook his head and smiled.
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.
"We'll have to get you up to bed," said the latter, rising slowly and dusting himself. Mr. Scutts, who was lying full length on the floor, acquiesced, and sent his wife for some neighbours. One of them was a professional furniture- remover, and, half-way up the narrow stairs, the unfortunate had to remind him that he was dealing with a British working man, and not a piano.
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, 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.
"I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!" said the visitor, jingling some coins in his trouser-pocket. "I never saw a man so pleased and grateful in my life. When he signed the receipt for it I always get them to sign a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven't kept the money for myself he nearly wept with joy." "I should think he would," said Mr. Scutts, slowly "if he wasn't hurt."
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