Old Matthew had let the pipe drop out of his mouth, and it lay broken on the hearth.
"He has fainted," said Ralph, still holding his burden; "turn that bench to the fire." No one stirred.

Every one stood for the moment as if stupefied.

Sim's head hung over Ralph's arm: his face was as pale as death.
"Out of the way," said Ralph, brushing past a great lumbering fellow, with his mouth agape.
The company found their tongues at last.

Were they to sit with "this hang-gallows of a tailor"?
The landlord, thinking himself appealed to, replied that he "couldn't hev na brulliment" in his house.
"There need be no broil," said Ralph, laying the insensible form on a seat and proceeding to strip off the wet outer garments.

Then turning to the hostess, he said,-- "Martha, bring me water, quick." Martha turned about and obeyed him without a word.
"He'll be better soon," said Ralph to Robbie Anderson.