The
moment the doctor's grip on him loosed, Tinker wriggled off his knee
and fled to Selina, who carried him away along with a selection from
the parcels to dress him.
"A bad case," said the doctor. "But I've seen worse, much worse. I
hope you'll put the matter into the hands of the Society for the
Prevention of Cruelty to Children, and have the parents
prosecuted--picked him up in the gutter I suppose."
"I haven't made up my mind about prosecuting them," said Sir Tancred.
"Oh, have them prosecuted! Have them prosecuted! It stops others,"
said the doctor. "And besides, they might get the cat: it's the only
thing brutes of this kind understand." Then he added thoughtfully,
"There's one uncommon thing about this child--quite uncommon."
"What's that?"
"His vitality--he ought to be in bed, half-dying, with those bruises,
and starved as he is. But you saw how he struggled to get away from
me. Well, I'll write you a prescription for as strong a tonic as I
dare give a child."
He wrote the prescription, promised to be round every morning, and took
his fee. As he went away he said, "Someone ought to get six month's
hard labour for maltreating him."
After a while Selina brought in Tinker, dressed in his new clothes,
with his mat of hair cut close to his head.
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