Between them they laid Crispin on a couch, and the town spark went to work with a dexterity little to have been expected from his flippant exterior.

He dressed the wound, which was in the shoulder and not in itself of a dangerous character, the loss of blood it being that had brought some gravity to the knight's condition.

They propped his head upon a pillow, and presently he sighed and, opening his eyes, complained of thirst, and was manifestly surprised at seeing the coxcomb turned leech.
"I came in search of you to pursue our game," Foster explained when they had ministered to him, "and, 'fore George, I am vastly grieved to find you in this condition." "Pish, sir, my condition is none so grievous--a scratch, no more, and were my heart itself pierced the knowledge that I have gained--" He stopped short.

"But there, sir," he added presently, "I am grateful beyond words for your timely ministration, and if to my debt you will add that of leaving me awhile to rest, I shall appreciate it." His glance met Cynthia's and he smiled.

The host coughed significantly, and shuffled towards the door.