At the top of the stairs they came on Mrs. Petty, who, having Scotch blood in her veins, stood against the wall to let them pass, with a hot bottle in either hand.  Having placed Mr. Lavender in his bed and drawn the clothes up to his eyes, Joe Petty passed the back of his hand across his brow, and wrung it out.

“Phew!” he gasped; “he’s artful!”

His wife, who had followed them in, was already fastening her eyes on the carpet.

“What’s that?” she said, sniffing.

“That?” repeated Joe, picking up his pipe; “why, I had to run to ketch ‘im, and it fell out o’ me pocket.”

“And lighted itself,” said Mrs. Petty, darting, at the floor and taking up a glowing quid which had burned a little round hole in the carpet.  “You’re a pretty one!”

“You can’t foresee those sort o’ things,” said Joe.

“You can’t foresee anything,” replied his wife; “you might be a Government.  Here! hold the clothes while I get the bottles to his feet.  Well I never!  If he hasn’t got——­” And from various parts of Mr. Lavender’s body she recovered the five journals.  “For putting things in the wrong place, Joe Petty, I’ve never seen your like!”

“They’ll keep ’im warm,” said Joe.

Mr. Lavender who, on finding himself in bed, had once more fallen into a comatose condition, stirred, and some words fell from his lips.  “Five in one, and one in five.”

“What does he say?” said Mrs. Petty, tucking him up.

“It’s the odds against Candelabra for the Derby.”

“Only faith,” cried Mr. Lavender, “can multiply exceedingly.”

“Here, take them away!” muttered Mrs. Petty, and dealing the journals a smart slap, she handed them to Joe.

“Faith!” repeated Mr. Lavender, and fell into a doze.

“About this new disease,” said Joe.  “D’you think it’s ketchin’?  I feel rather funny meself.”

“Stuff!” returned his wife.  “Clear away those papers and that bone, and go and take Blink out, and sit on a seat; it’s all you’re fit for.  Of all the happy-go-luckys you’re the worst.”

“Well, I never could worry,” said Joe from the doorway; “’tisn’t in me.  So long!”

And, dragging Blink by the collar, he withdrew.

Alone with her patient, Mrs. Petty, an enthusiast for cleanliness and fresh air, went on her knees, and, having plucked out the charred ring of the little hole in the carpet, opened the window wider to rid the room of the smell of burning.  “If it wasn’t for me,” she thought, leaning out into the air, “I don’t know what’d become of them.”

A voice from a few feet away said: 

“I hope he’s none the worse.  What does the doctor say?”

Looking round in astonishment, Mrs. Petty saw a young lady leaning out of a window on her right.

“We can’t tell at present,” she said, with a certain reserve he is going on satisfactory.

“It’s not hydrophobia, is it?” asked the young lady.  “You know he fell out of the window?