A CHILD OF THE JAGO
brought, and cloths, and an old door. They put Dicky on the door, and carried him toward the surgery; and two lads who stayed by him were sent to bring his friends.
The bride and bridegroom, meeting the news on the way home, set off at a run, and Father Sturt followed.
"Good Gawd, Dicky," cried Poll, tearing her way to the shutter as it stopped at the surgery door, "wot's this?"
Dicky's eye fell on the flowered bonnet that graced the wedding, and his lip lifted with the shade of a smile. "Luck, Pidge!"
He was laid out in the surgery. A crowd stood about the door, while Father Sturt went in. The vicar lifted his eyebrows questioningly, and the surgeon shook his head. It was a matter of minutes.
Father Sturt bent over and took Dicky's hand. "My poor Dicky," he said, "who did this?"
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