He lay down again with a satisfied smile; it was like a tale in a story-book: the faithful old servant and his master's daughter.

He closed his eyes as he heard her coming upstairs.
"Ah, pore dear," said a voice.
Mr.Wilks opened his eyes sharply and beheld the meagre figure of Mrs.
Silk.

In one hand she held a medicine-bottle and a glass and in the other paper and firewood.
[Illustration: "The meagre figure of Mrs.Silk."] "I only 'eard of it half an hour ago," she said, reproachfully.

"I saw the doctor's boy, and I left my work and came over at once.

Why didn't you let me know ?" Mr.Wilks muttered that he didn't know, and lay crossly regarding his attentive neighbour as she knelt down and daintily lit the fire.