f way, not knowing exactly how to do
the honours. Then, looking at me and jerking his thumb in the direction
of the stranger, he said, "This here's the cove from downstairs!"

The gentleman approached my bedside and said, gently, "Am I disturbing
you? I found a note from my fellow-lodger when I got in just now,
asking me to call up and see how you were getting on."

"It's very kind of you," said I. "I hope you can stay a bit."

"Certainly; I've nothing to do."

Billy, however, did not apparently favour this suggestion.

"This 'ere cove," said he, pointing to me, "ain't to jaw, mister!"

"Quite right, William," said the gentleman; "I'll see he doesn't. I'll
do all the talking and he shall do the listening. You can go down to my
room and make my bed ready for me and tidy up."

The boy looked dubiously first at the speaker, then at me, as if he was
not quite sure about the propriety of allowing me out of his sight, but
finally obeyed.

"There's a trusty youngster for you!" said the gentleman, laughing, as
he disappeared. "Young Smith couldn't have found a safer nurse for you
anywhere."

"I believe you are right," said I.

"And how are you feeling? You're looking better than when I saw you
last, anyhow."

"I never saw you before, did I?" I asked.

"No, you didn't; but I saw you when you were brought in here the other
evening. However, as Billy says, you mustn't talk now. I suppose you
heard me order him to make my bed. I always go to bed every morning at
eleven. Young Smith and I are like Box and Cox, you know; he's away all
day, I'm away all night. Just when he's finishing up work I'm
beginning."

"I wonder you can keep awake all the night," I said.

"Not more wonderful than you keeping awake all day, my boy. In fact,
there's not much chance of a poor literary hack sleeping over his work.
Now I wonder, when you read your newspaper in the morning, if you ever
think of what has to be done to produce it. If you only did, I dare say
you would find it more interesting than it often seems."

And then my companion launched out into a lively description of the work
of a newspaper office, and of the various stages in the production of a
paper, from the pen and ink in the sub-editor's room to the printed,
folded, and delivered newspaper which lies on one's breakfast-table
every morning. I wish I could repeat it all for the benefit of the
reader, for few subjects are more interesting; but it would ta