Summoned by Mrs.Peckover, whose old acquaintance he was, the druggist left the shop in care of his son, aged fifteen, and sped to Clerkenwell Close.

He made light of Jane's ailment.

'A little fever, that was all--soon pull her round.

Any wounds, by-the-by?
No?
Oh, soon pull her round.

Send for medicines.' 'We'll have her down in the back-kitchen as soon as the corffin's away,' said Mrs.Peckover to Mrs.Hewett.