She ’ad quieted down by the time Joe went round to see ’er the next evening, and asked ’im to describe exactly wot the six men ’ad done and said.  She sat listening quite quiet at fust, but arter a time she scared Joe by making a odd, croupy sort o’ noise in ’er throat, and at last she got up and walked into the back-place.  She was there a long time making funny noises, and at last Joe walked toward the door on tip-toe and peeped through the crack and saw ‘er in a sort o’ fit, sitting in a chair with ’er arms folded acrost her bodice and rocking ’erself up and down and moaning.  Joe stood as if ’e’d been frozen a’most, and then ’e crept back to ’is seat and waited, and when she came into the room agin she said as the trouble ’ad all been caused by Bill Jones.  She sat still for nearly ’arf an hour, thinking ’ard, and then she turned to Joe and ses: 

[Illustration:  “She sat listening quite quiet at fust.”]

“Can you read?” she ses.

“No,” ses Joe, wondering wot was coming next.

“That’s all right, then,” she ses, “because if you could I couldn’t do wot I’m going to do.”

“That shows the ’arm of eddication,” ses Joe.  “I never did believe in it.”

Mrs. Prince nodded, and then she went and got a bottle with something in it which looked to Joe like gin, and arter getting out ’er pen and ink and printing some words on a piece o’ paper she stuck it on the bottle, and sat looking at Joe and thinking.

“Take this up to the Cauliflower,” she ses, “make friends with Bill Jones, and give him as much beer as he’ll drink, and give ‘im a little o’ this gin in each mug.  If he drinks it the spell will be broken, and you’ll be luckier than you ’ave ever been in your life afore.  When ’e’s drunk some, and not before, leave the bottle standing on the table.”

Joe Barlcomb thanked ’er, and with the bottle in ’is pocket went off to the Cauliflower, whistling.  Bill Jones was there, and Peter Lamb, and two or three more of ’em, and at fust they said some pretty ’ard things to him about being woke up in the night.

“Don’t bear malice, Bill,” ses Joe Barlcomb; “’ave a pint with me.”

He ordered two pints, and then sat down along-side o’ Bill, and in five minutes they was like brothers.

“‘Ave a drop o’ gin in it, Bill,” he ses, taking the bottle out of ’is pocket.

Bill thanked ’im and had a drop, and then, thoughtful-like, he wanted Joe to ‘ave some in his too, but Joe said no, he’d got a touch o’ toothache, and it was bad for it.

“I don’t mind ’aving a drop in my beer, Joe,” ses Peter Lamb.

“Not to-night, mate,” ses Joe; “it’s all for Bill.  I bought it on purpose for ’im.”

Bill shook ’ands with him, and when Joe called for another pint and put some more gin in it he said that ’e was the noblest-’arted man that ever lived.

“You wasn’t saying so ’arf an hour ago,” ses Peter Lamb.