t was worse, however, when, without saying a word, she removed the
decanter from the table. He was always accustomed to a dram at
dinner.

However, he made no objection. Randulf's strong marsala had begun to
work upon him, and he did not feel so confident of his powers of
speech as to venture upon a remonstrance. They dined, therefore, in
silence, and afterwards he laid himself down as usual on the sofa for
a siesta.

Generally he took only a short nap, but on this occasion he did not
wake up till five o'clock, when he was much surprised to find himself
enveloped in a grey wrapper, and on a chair by his side a basin of
gruel.

He lay still, and tried to collect his thoughts. His head throbbed,
and his memory was neither clear nor perfect. He remembered that two
boys had laughed at him when he jumped lightly over the doorstep
outside the Brothers Egeland's store, and that he had felt much
inclined to complain of them to the police. He had also a vision of a
decanter which moved away, and vanished in a cupboard.

He was about to get up; but at this moment Sarah entered the room.
"No, no; you are ill. You must keep quiet."

"Oh, nonsense, Sarah! there is nothing the matter with me. It was
just--"

"I will go and fetch mother," she said, moving towards the door.

"No, no! What do we want with her? I would rather remain lying here,
as you insist upon it."

He laid himself down again, and she reached him the gruel, which
proved a great relief to his parched and fevered throat. He thanked
her, and would have taken her hand but that he was unable to seize
it.

She stood behind him, looking at his grey head, and it was well for
him that he could not see her eyes.

Jacob Worse spent the rest of the day upon the sofa, and, after the
lassitude caused by his morning excess, felt all the better for it.
The next day he was all right again; but he did not dare ask for the
decanter; it was gone, and it never reappeared.

From his son Romarino, Worse received a very disagreeable letter.
This young gentleman pointed out to him the folly of taking a young
wife at his advanced age, and, without the least compunction,
bewailed the pecuniary loss which it might entail on him, Romarino.

Worse was very angry, and handed the letter to Sarah, who read it,
whilst he walked up and down the room, fuming.

"Yes, you cannot expect it otherwise," said Sarah. "The young man was
never taught anything better, either by you or by his mot