There was the bit of candle flaring away and guttering down, the wind flapping the canvas backwards and forwards and coming in fierce through the holes, while the rain was dripping from the top because the canvas hadn't got well soaked and tight, and I couldn't help thinking about what a miserable place it was for a sick man. There was the drum a-going and the clarinet squeaking, while another of the company was rattling away at a pair o' pot-lid cymbals; the grease-pots were flaring in front of the stage, and them all a dancing and one thing and another over and over again, while Balchin's voice, husky and bad with his cold, could be heard telling people to walk up for the last time that night; but they wouldn't, for it was wet and miserable and spiritless as could be. Poor Dick had been out ever so long in his tights and fleshings doing his summersets and bits o' posturing, till his thin things were wet through, when he comes in at last to me, where I was nursing little Totty, hard at work to keep her quiet, and he says with a bit of a groan-- "I'm knocked over, lass. It's like a knife in my chest," and I could hear his breath rattling hard, as he looked that ill I couldn't keep the tears back. You see he'd been bad for days and taking medicine for his cough; but then what good was that with us, going from place to place in wet weather and him obliged to take his turn with the rest, and we always sleeping under the canvas. Why, he ought to have been in a house and with a doctor to him, though he wouldn't hear of it when I talked about it. "Can't afford it, Sally," he'd say, and then, poor fellow, he'd sit up in bed and cough till he'd fall back worn out, when as soon as he was laid down, back came the cough again worse than ever, and I've lain quiet and still, crying because I couldn't help him. Don't know anything more sad and wearying than to hear some one cough--cough--cough the whole long night through, with it resting a little when sitting up, and then coming on again worse and worse as soon as you lie down. And that's how it was with poor Dick, but he had a heart like a lion and would never give up. All the others used to lodge about at the public-houses, 'cept Balchin, who lived in the van, but Dick said he liked being under the canvas best, for you were like in your own place, and there was no noise and bother with the landlords, besides sleeping in all sorts of dirty places after other people, so we always kept to the corner of the tent and under the stage, making use of a bit of charcoal fire in a stand. And Dick wouldn't have the doctor till that night, when he says at last, "you must fetch him." I'd been watching him lying there hardly able to breathe, and sometimes, when his eyes were nearly shut, you could only see the whites, while his hands tore like at the covering, he seemed in such pain.