"Might ask the same question of you," said Cai Tamblyn. "I'm the
kew-rator, havin' been Hymen's servant in the old days, and shows
around the visitors, besides dustin' the mementoes--locks of his
bloomin' 'air and the rest of the trash, I looked in to see how you
was a-gettin' on after the palaver. If I'm not wanted I'll go."
"Don't go."
"Very well, then, I won't." Mr. Tamblyn took a seat on the edge of an
unoccupied bed, drew from his pocket a knife and a screw of pig-tail
tobacco, sliced off a portion and rubbed it meditatively between his
hands. "I done you a good turn just now," he continued. "Some o'
the company--the womenkind especially--wanted to come in and make a
fuss over you before leavin'."
"Why should they want to make a fuss over me?"
"Well you may ask," said Mr. Tamblyn, candidly. "'Tain't a question
of looks, though. There's a kind of female--an' 'tis the commonest
kind, too--can't hear of a man bein' hurt an' put to bed but she
wants to see for herself. 'Tis like the game a female child plays
with a dollies' house. Here they've got a nice little orspital to
amuse 'em, with nice clean blankets an' sheets, an' texteses 'pon the
walls, an' a cupboard full o' real medicines an' splints, and along
comes a real live patient to be put to bed, an' the thing's complete.
Hows'ever, they didn' get no fun out of 'ee to-day, for I told 'em
you was sleepin' peaceful an' not to be disturbed.
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