The Carpenter had been born in the army, where his father had served twenty-two years.Likewise, his two brothers had gone into the army;one, troop sergeant-major of the Seventh Hussars, dying in India after the Mutiny; the other, after nine years under Roberts in the East, had been lost in Egypt.The Carpenter had not gone into the army, so here he was, still on the planet.
'But 'ere, give me your 'and,' he said, ripping open his ragged shirt.'I'm fit for the anatomist, that's all.I'm wastin' away, sir, actually wastin' away for want of food.Feel my ribs an' you'll see.'
I put my hand under his shirt and felt.The skin was stretched like parchment over the bones, and the sensation produced was for all the world like running one's hand over a washboard.
'Seven years o' bliss I 'ad,' he said.'A good missus and three bonnie lassies.But they all died.Scarlet fever took the girls inside a fortnight.'
'After this, sir,' said the Carter, indicating the spread, and desiring to turn the conversation into more cheerful channels;'after this, I wouldn't be able to eat a workhouse breakfast in the morning.'
'Nor I,' agreed the Carpenter, and they fell to discussing belly delights and the fine dishes their respective wives had cooked in the old days.
'I've gone three days and never broke my fast,' said the Carter.
'And I, five,' his companion added, turning gloomy with the memory of it.'Five days once, with nothing on my stomach but a bit of orange peel, an' outraged nature wouldn't stand it, sir, an' I near died.