e people at the end of the lane who
first met him, and who knew him well.

"Wery sad, ain't it, sir?" said a sympathetic barber. "He was sitch a
droll dog too. He'll be quite a loss to the neighbourhood; won't he,
sir?"

"I hope he won't," said Gorman, loud enough to be heard by several
persons who lounged about their doors. "I hope to see him start afresh,
an' git on better than ever, poor fellow; at least, I'll do all _I_ can
to help him."

"Ah! you've helped him already, sir, more than once, I believe; at least
so he told me," said the barber, with an approving nod.

"Well, so I have," returned Gorman modestly, "but he may be assured that
any trifle he owes me won't be called for just now. In fact, my small
loan to him is an old debt, which I might have got any time these last
six years, when he was flourishing; so I'm not going to press him now,
poor fellow. He's ill, you say?"

"Yes, so I'm told; raither serious too."

"That's very sad; where is he?"

"With Mrs Craw, sir, the greengrocer."

"Ah, I'll go and see him. Good-day."

Gorman passed on, with as much benignity thrown into his countenance as
it could contain; and the barber observed, as he re-entered his shop,
that, "that man was a better fellow than he looked."

But Gorman's intentions, whatever they might have been, were frustrated
at that time; for he found Boone in high fever, and quite delirious. He
did not, however, quit the house without putting, as he expressed it, at
least one spoke in his wheel; for he conducted himself in such a way
towards Mrs Craw, and expressed so much feeling for her friend "and
his," that he made quite a favourable impression on that worthy woman.
He also left a sovereign, wherewith to purchase any little luxuries for
the sick man, that might be conducive to his health and comfort, and
went away with the assurance that he would look in to inquire for him as
often as he could.

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.

WILLIE WILLDERS IN DIFFICULTIES.

Mr Thomas Tippet, beaming and perspiring as of old, was standing at his
bench, chisel in hand, and Willie Willders was standing with his back to
the fire, and his legs pretty wide apart; not because he preferred that
_degage_ attitude, but because Chips and Puss were asleep side by side
between his feet.

It must not be supposed that although Willie had changed so much since
the first day he stood there, an equal change had taken place in Mr
Tippet. By no means. He w