r, wouldn't it?" For a moment I
thought, "I'll turn teetotal as well," but I did not say it. I bent
towards Bob and asked, "Would you care to see your mother, old man?" He
smiled beautifully, and eagerly answered, "Go for her now."

I was away about two hours, and returned with Mrs. Darbishire. The
landlord met us, and gravely said "I've been away, but the potman tells
me a queer yarn. Mr. Darbishire made queer signs out of window to the
man you call the Ramper, and Mr. Ramper goes to the pub over the way and
then up to the room. And now Mr. Robert's been locked in for a hour and
a half." My heart gave one leap, and then I felt cold. We hurried up
stairs, and we heard a long shrill snarl--not like a human voice.

"Locked! Fetch a crowbar, and call up one of the lads to help."

We burst open the door, and there on the bed lay Bob. He was chattering,
as it were, in his sleep, and a brandy bottle lay on the floor. He had
swallowed nearly the whole of the poison raw, and his limbs were
paralyzed. Suddenly he opened his eyes; then he writhed and yelled,
"Mother!--the beast! the beast!" The lady threw herself down on her
knees with a pitiful cry, but Bob did not speak to her. He never spoke
any more.

TEDDY.

I was so weak and nervous after Bob Darbishire's death that I did not go
much to The Chequers; I hid myself most in my own rooms. The funeral was
attended by all the well-to-do folks in the district; but I was not
there, because I did not care to pass by The Chequers in the procession.
Most people had a good word for poor Bob, and many kind fellows could
not mention him without the tears coming into their eyes. Only the
spongers were indifferent; but they had, of course, to look around for
another liberal spendthrift. Bob was so young, and bright, and brave; I
never knew a straighter or a kinder man, and I have seen few who had so
much ability. He drifted into drunkenness by accident, and the vice had
him hard by the throat before he found out that he was really a
prisoner. He struggled for awhile, and repented again and again; but
his will was captured, and when once a man's will is enslaved, vices
seem to come easy to him. I am not fit to moralise about his relations
with women; I only know that he was a sinner, and I think of his
temptations. Like so many splendid young Englishmen, he was conquered by
drink. The vice seizes on some of the best in all classes, and the
finest flowers soon become as worthles