“Itwasn'treallyanybetterthanyours,” saidSusantotheDwarf.“Ithinktherewasatinybreathofwindasyoushot.”
“No, therewasn't,” saidTrumpkin.“Don''tevensaythatthescarofmylastwoundcatchesmeabitwhenIgetmyarmwellback—”
“Oh, areyouwounded?” askedLucy.“Doletmelook.”
“It'snotasightforlittlegirls,” beganTrumpkin, butthenhesuddenlycheckedhimself.“ThereIgotalkinglikeafoolagain,” hesaid“Isupposeyou'reaslikelytobeagreatsurgeonasyourbrotherwastobeagreatswordsmanoryoursistertobeagreatarcher.” Hesatdownonthestepsandtookoffhishauberkandslippeddownhislittleshirt,showinganarmhairyandmuscular (inproportion) asasailor'sthoughnotmuchbiggerthanachild', thecutlookedverynastyandtherewasagooddealofswelling.“Oh, poorTrumpkin,” saidLucy.“Howhorrid.” Thenshecarefullydrippedontoitonesingledropofthecordialfromherflask.
“? Whathaveyoudone?” , hecouldn', gettinghisarmsandfingersintoverydifficultpositionsasyoudowhenyou', andfinallyjumpedtohisfeetcrying, “Giantsandjunipers! It'scured! It'sasgoodasnew.” Afterthatheburstintoagreatlaughandsaid, “Well, I', Ihope? MyhumbledutytoyourMajestiesall—, mycure, mybreakfast—andmylesson.”
Thechildrenallsaiditwasquiteallrightandnottomentionit.
“Andnow,” saidPeter, “ifyou'vereallydecidedtobelieveinus—”
“Ihave,” saidtheDwarf.
“It'.”
“Thesoonerthebetter,” saidTrumpkin.“Mybeingsuchafoolhasalreadywastedaboutanhour.”
