As Marilla knew, no one could spin a fairly succinct tale into an epic, quite like Anne Shirley-Cuthbert could. She made herself as comfortable as she could, arranging her skirts around her and prepared to listen.

Whilst Marilla and Anne were talking on the porch, Dr Spencer and Matthew were gazing down at Gilbert, who was still face down on the table. The doctor had washed his hands in the sink, and was rolling up the cuffs of his jacket and shirt.

"Well, Mr Blythe, it's been a goodly time since I last saw you. It must have been when…"

"When my father was dying." Gilbert muttered, his voice muffled in his sleeve.

The doctor flushed. It didn't always do to remind a person of a traumatic time.

"Ah. Yes. Well, I must say, I'm puzzled to see you in this state. Miss Anne told me a little of your to-doings, and frankly, I'm a little surprised that this happened at all. I'd always had the impression you were a sensible lad. And now look at you. Nearly a man grown, yet still clearly deserving of your school master's right arm."

Gilbert ignored him. He just glowered into his sleeve.

Matthew shuffled his feet and awkwardly patted Gilbert's arm. "I think there might have been more to it than just a bit of boyish misbehaviour doctor… Granted, I'm no expert in boys, but this seems excessive."

The doctor huffed. "Perhaps you are right, Matthew. Perhaps so… May I ask? How did you come to end up with the boy here?"

Matthew paused for a long second… He'd gone out for grain – which he'd forgotten… Marilla was sure to ask this very same question… But maybe the doctor and Marilla wouldn't talk, so he could tell the doctor a half-truth. But Marilla would know why he was there… He'd never hidden anything from her. She'd ask a few small questions, and then she'd know…

"Oh, I was getting grain from the store, and Marilla asked me to drop off a lunch basket to Anne. The silly child walked off without it this morning! And then… All this was going on. Right place, right time."

The doctor shrugged and nodded, then gestured down at Gilbert, "So… Based on the state of his britches, which will need a good soak in COLD water first if there's to be any chance at all of salvaging them and getting the blood out… Perhaps the school master did get a bit carried away... Anyway, I think the best thing to do is to take a look… Right then Mr Blythe, if you could manage to lift your hips a fraction…"

Gilbert was cringing with embarrassment and kept his head down. He lifted his hips, as instructed, and felt cool fingers hook in the waistband and start to ease his pants downwards.

He head flew up and he shrieked with shock and pain.

"Christ have mercy!" The doctor let out, and quickly let go.

"They're stuck to his skin. The blood has dried rock solid… We'll have to soak them off him. Matthew, do you have a bucket? We'll need a bucket of warm water."

"Warm water? Ah, yes. There'll be hot in the kettle. I can mix it."

"Do." The doctor nodded. "We don't want to add burns to the list of things we're dealing with here."

The whole operation paused awkwardly, while Matthew bustled around, fetching the kettle and pouring what remained of the contents into a bucket, then mixing it with cold from the pump.

Armed with the bucket, and a cloth, he returned to the table, and offered it all to Doctor Spencer.

The doctor held the bucket, and seemed unsure. After a moment, he nodded to himself decisively, and swiftly emptied the entire contents of the bucket over Gilbert's backside.

The doctor and Matthew quickly stepped back, as the bulk of the water sloshed off Gilbert and straight onto the table, and then the floor. Matthew couldn't help but think that Marilla was not going to be thrilled to come back in and find her floor sodden, and worse, the kettle empty of hot water.

The doctor surveyed the chaos he'd just caused, and glanced at his watch.

"We'll wait a moment or two and let the water get through the fabric."

Matthew and the doctor stood awkwardly. How does one make polite small talk whilst standing in a large puddle of water, in your shirt sleeves, with a soaking wet body lying on a table before you?

The doctor broke the silence. "I think we'll try that again now… Mr Blythe, just try lifting your hips for me again, if you could. There's a good fellow…"

Gilbert did as instructed and the doctor was able to hook his fingers between Gilbert's skin and the sodden fabric. Then slowly, inch by inch, he was able to ease the fabric away and lower his pants down to his thighs.

Matthew didn't know where to look at first, but the doctor leaned over and peered down, with an air of medical interest.

"Hand me the cloth, if you would."

Matthew hurriedly located the cloth and passed it over to the doctor.

The doctor wetted it in a puddle that had accumulated on the table and gently began to wipe away some of the red-tinged water from Gilbert's skin. His other hand resting, soothingly, at the base of Gilbert's spine, his thumb idly drawing little circles. It was such a soft, gentle gesture, that anyone could see that the doctor did have some sympathy for the boy.

Matthew found himself staring with morbid curiosity. It was savagery what he saw before him.

Once some of the blood had been carefully washed away by the doctor, other colours came to light. Matthew could easily count nine raised and scratched purple ridges flayed across Gilbert's rump, coloured in-between, as they were, with various other shades of blue, purple and blood-red.

Where some stripes had crossed each other, the skin had split apart, which would have been what caused the bleeding.

"Quite the colourful palate you've got yourself down here, Mr Blythe." Dr Spencer remarked, very gently running a finger down one of the ridges, causing Gilbert to hiss through his teeth.

"However. Good news." The doctor continued, "While I'm not surprised there was some bleeding, there is little to be done apart from bed rest and cold compresses. While I can safely say you won't be riding up on any horses for a few weeks, it'll heal in due course. No permanent damage, I wouldn't have thought."

He turned to Matthew.

"Mr Cuthbert, perhaps you could manage to find some britches, or a night-gown, the lad could wear…? Would he be able to stay here with you for a few days? I'm loathe to send him off home in this state. He'll need to be resting… On his front, I'd imagine."

"Ah… Yes… I can find him something. I'll have to ask Marilla of course, if there's room for him to stay, because it's…"

"I'll go home." Gilbert suddenly announced, pushing the top half of his body from the table, with a visible effort. "I've no desire to inconvenience you, Mr Cuthbert. Or Miss Cuthbert. But I would appreciate the loan of something to wear."

"Don't talk daft, lad. I was about to say that our spare room has Marilla's sewing things in it presently, and the bed isn't made up. But I'm sure that can be seen to."

"There you go lad," said the doctor, giving Gilbert a slight push back down onto the table. "It's all settled. You'll stay some days with the Cuthbert's. Just until you're fit to mind yourself again."

The doctor moved away, and went to wash his hands in the sink. Matthew leaned down and whispered to Gilbert.

"I'll just get you something to slip on. It'll be no trouble to have you here. And I'm sure Anne will be pleased. She likes to play the nurse."

"I don't want her seeing me! Please! I'm ashamed!"

Matthew chuckled, "She won't. But I know she'll be pleased you're here. You just lie here a moment, and I'll help you dress before the womenfolk come in."

Gilbert sighed and nodded, "Thank you Mr Cuthbert. I do appreciate it."

Gilbert rested his head on his arms, and peered sideways up at Matthew.

"What can I wear?"

"Ah, yes. Let me think… Doctor? Would you mind staying a moment, with Gilbert, while I find something?"

Dr Spencer looked back over his shoulder, from the sink. "Ah, yes Matthew. No hurry. I'll be a few moments longer yet."

Matthew patted Gilbert on the shoulder, and moved towards the stairs.

IN THE NEXT CHAPTER

Matthew goes in search of clothing for Gilbert. During his search, he finds something from his own childhood. Something that starts to explain why Matthew may feel duty-bound to care for Gilbert.