Chapter 5 - Page 2

think they'd
have a hospital here. The men bought the ground, and, my sirs,
there'd be accidents enough to keep it going. But no, they must
trail them ten miles in a slow ambulance to Nottingham. It's a
crying shame! Oh, and the fuss he'll make! I know he will!
I wonder who's with him. Barker, I s'd think. Poor beggar,
he'll wish himself anywhere rather. But he'll look after him, I know.
Now there's no telling how long he'll be stuck in that hospital--and
WON'T he hate it! But if it's only his leg it's not so bad."

All the time she was getting ready. Hurriedly taking off her
bodice, she crouched at the boiler
while the water ran slowly into her lading-can.

"I wish this boiler was at the bottom of the sea!" she exclaimed,
wriggling the handle impatiently. She had very handsome, strong arms,
rather surprising on a smallish woman.

Paul cleared away, put on the kettle, and set the table.

"There isn't a train till four-twenty," he said.
"You've time enough."

"Oh no, I haven't!" she cried, blinking at him over the towel
as she wiped her face.

"Yes, you have. You must drink a cup of tea at any rate.
Should I come with you to Keston?"

"Come with me? What for, I should like to know? Now, what have
I to take him? Eh, dear! His clean shirt--and it's a blessing it
IS clean. But it had better be aired. And stockings--he won't want
them--and a towel, I suppose; and handkerchiefs. Now what else?"

"A comb, a knife and fork and spoon," said Paul. His father
had been in the hospital before.

"Goodness knows what sort of state his feet were in,"
continued Mrs. Morel, as she combed her long brown hair, that was
fine as silk, and was touched now with grey. "He's very particular
to wash himself to the waist, but below he thinks doesn't matter.
But there, I suppose they see plenty like it."

Paul had laid the table. He cut his mother one or two pieces
of very thin bread and butter.

"Here you are," he said, putting her cup of tea in her place.

"I can't be bothered!" she exclaimed crossly.

"Well, you've got to, so there, now it's put out ready,"
he insisted.

So she sat down and sipped her tea, and ate a little, in silence.
She was thinking.

In a few minutes she was gone, to walk the two and a half miles
to Keston Station. All the things she was taking him she had in her
bulging string bag. Paul watched her go up the road between the
hedges--a little, quick-stepping figure, and his heart ached for her,
that she was thrust forward again into pain and trouble. And she,
tripping so quickly in her anxiety, felt at the back of her her
son's heart waiting on her, felt him bearing what part of the burden
he could, even