“Any pain?” inquired the doctor, after an examination in which bony and very cold fingers had played a prominent part.

“Not much pain,” said Mr. Scutts.  “Don’t seem to have no strength in my back.”

“Ah!” said the doctor.

“I tried to get up this morning to go to my work,” said Mr. Scutts, “but I can’t stand! couldn’t get out of bed.”

“Fearfully upset, he was, pore dear,” testified Mrs. Scutts.  “He can’t bear losing a day.  I s’pose—­I s’pose the railway company will ’ave to do something if it’s serious, won’t they, sir?”

“Nothing to do with me,” said the doctor.  “I’ll put him on the club for a few days; I expect he will be all right soon.  He’s got a healthy colour—­a very healthy colour.”

Mr. Scutts waited until he had left the house and then made a few remarks on the colour question that for impurity of English and strength of diction have probably never been surpassed.

A second visitor that day came after dinner—­a tall man in a frock-coat, bearing in his hand a silk hat, which, after a careful survey of the room, he hung on a knob of the bedpost.

“Mr. Scutts?” he inquired, bowing.

“That’s me,” said Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice.

“I’ve called from the railway company,” said the stranger.  “We have seen now all those who left their names and addresses on Monday afternoon, and I am glad to say that nobody was really hurt.  Nobody.”

Mr. Scutts, in a faint voice, said he was glad to hear it.

“Been a wonder if they had,” said the other, cheerfully.  “Why, even the paint wasn’t knocked off the engine.  The most serious damage appears to be two top-hats crushed and an umbrella broken.”

He leaned over the bed-rail and laughed joyously.  Mr. Scutts, through half-closed eyes, gazed at him in silent reproach.

“I don’t say that one or two people didn’t receive a little bit of a shock to their nerves,” said the visitor, thoughtfully.  “One lady even stayed in bed next day.  However, I made it all right with them.  The company is very generous, and although of course there is no legal obligation, they made several of them a present of a few pounds, so that they could go away for a little change, or anything of that sort, to quiet their nerves.”

Mr. Scutts, who had been listening with closed eyes, opened them languidly and said, “Oh.”

“I gave one gentleman twen-ty pounds!” said the visitor, jingling some coins in his trouser-pocket.  “I never saw a man so pleased and grateful in my life.  When he signed the receipt for it—­I always get them to sign a receipt, so that the company can see that I haven’t kept the money for myself—­he nearly wept with joy.”

“I should think he would,” said Mr. Scutts, slowly—­“if he wasn’t hurt.”

“You’re the last on my list,” said the other, hastily.  He produced a slip of paper from his pocket-book and placed it on the small table, with a fountain pen.  Then, with a smile that was both tender and playful, he plunged his hand in his pocket and poured a stream of gold on the table.