nd knocked for him.

But it was I who shrank back when the door opened: for the person who
opened it was--Mr. George!--in pigtail and wooden leg unchanged, but
in demeanour (so far as agitation allowed me to remark it) more
saturnine than ever.

"Do the Widow Babbage live here?" stammered Mr. Jope.

"She do not," answered Mr. George slowly, and added, "worse luck!"

"Is--is she dead?"

"No, she ain't," answered Mr. George, and pulled himself up.

"Then what's the matter with her?"

"There ain't nothing the matter with _her_, as I know by," answered
Mr. George once more, in a non-committal tone. "But I'm her
'usband."

"You--Mr. George?" I gasped.

Thereupon he recognised me, and his eyes grew round, yet expressed no
immoderate surprise.

"A nice dance _you've_ led everybody!" he said slowly: "but I was
never hopeful about you, I'm thankful to say."

"Where is Miss Plinlimmon living?" I asked. "Has she left the
Hospital too?"

"She didn't leave it," he answered. "It left her. The Hospital's
scat."

"Eh?"

"Bust--sold up--come to an end. Scougall's retired on the
donations. He feathered _his_ nest. And Miss Plinlimmon's gone down
into Cornwall to live with a Major Brooks--a kind of relation of
hers, so far as I can make out. They tell me she've come into
money."

I had a question on my lips, but Mr. Jope interrupted.

"I haven't the pleasure of your acquaintance, sir," he began
politely, addressing Mr. George, "and by the look of 'ee, you must
date from before my time. But speakin' as one man to another, how do
you get along with that boy?"

The door was slammed in our faces.

Mr. Jope and I regarded one another. "Ben," said I, "it's urgent, or
I wouldn't leave you. I must start at once for Minden Cottage."

His face fell. "And I was planning a little kick-up at Symonds's,"
he said ruefully; "a fiddle or two--to celebrate the occasion;
nothing out o' the way. The first time you dropped on us, if you
remember, we was not quite ourselves, owing to poor dear Bill: and
I'd ha' liked you to form a cheerfuller idea of the place. But if
'tis duty, my lad, England expec's and I'm not gainsaying. Duty, is
it?"

"Duty it is," said I. "You walked up to yours nobly, and I must walk
on to mine."

So we shook hands, and I turned my face westward for the ferry.

I had over-calculated my strength, and limped sorely the last mile or
two before reaching Minden Cottage. Miss Plinlimmon open