r, there is better
to come. When Brother Warboise got up to take his leave, the man's
lips moved, and he tried to say something. His wife listened for
some time, and then reported, 'He wants you to come again.'
Brother Warboise wondered at this; but he called again next day.
Whereupon the pleasure in the man's face so irritated him, that he
sat down again and began to talk of the debt and God's judgment, in
words more opprobrious than before. . . . His own affairs, just then,
were going from bad to worse: and, in short, he found so much relief
in bullying the author of his misfortunes, who could not answer back,
that the call became a daily one. As for the woman, she endured it,
seeing that in some mysterious way it did her husband good."

"There was nothing mysterious about it," objected Brother Warboise.
"He knew himself a sinner, and desired to pay some of his penance
before meeting his God."

"I don't believe it," said Copas. "But whether you're right or
wrong, it doesn't affect the story much. . . . At length some friends
extricated our Brother from his stationery business, and got him
admitted to the Blanchminster Charity. The first afternoon he paid a
visit in his black gown, the sick man's face so lit up at the sight
that Warboise flew into a passion--did you not, Brother?"

"Did the child tell you all this?"

"Aye: from the woman's lips."

"I was annoyed, because all of a sudden it struck me that,
in revenge for my straight talk, Weekes had been wanting me to call
day by day that he might watch me going downhill; and that now he was
gloating to see me reduced to a Blanchminster gown. So I said,
'You blackguard, you may look your fill, and carry the recollection
of it to the Throne of Judgment, where I hope it may help you.
But this is your last sight of me.'"

"Quite correct," nodded Copas. "Mrs. Weekes corroborates. . . .
Well, Master, our Brother trudged back to St. Hospital with this
resolve, and for a week paid no more visits to the sick. By the end
of that time he had discovered, to his surprise, that he could not do
without them--that somehow Weekes had become as necessary to him as
he to Weekes."

"How did you find that out?" asked Brother Warboise sharply.

"Easily enough, as the child told the story. . . . At any rate,
you went. At the door of the house you met Mrs. Weekes.
She had put on her bonnet, and was coming that very afternoon to
beseech your return. You have called daily