"Not well," answered Fred; "the doctors shake their heads and speak of the shock having been too much for her. Dear Loo, she never was strong, and I'm afraid that she has received fatal injury on the night of the fire. I'm told that my poor father is sadly cut up about her--attends on her night and day, and humours her every whim. This is so unlike him that it fills me with anxiety on account of dear Loo, whom I have not seen since I went to live at Kensington." "Kensington, Fred? I did not know you had gone to live there." "I was just going to mention that when we came in. I have got a very comfortable lodging with--who do you think? you'll never guess--Mrs Willders, the mother of our young friend Willie who works with old Tom Tippet upstairs. You may well look surprised. I came upon the lodging quite accidentally, and, finding that it suited my inclinations and my purse, I took it at once for a few weeks. It's in a very poor locality, no doubt, but you know a man must cut his coat according to his cloth, and my cloth is not broad at present. But then," continued Fred, with sudden animation, "it's a splendid place for a painter! There are such picturesque regions and bits near it. Why, Kensington Gardens are sufficient to make the fortune of a landscape-painter--at least in the way of trees; then an hour's walk takes you to rural scenery, or canal scenery, with barges, bridges, boats, old stores, cottages, etcetera. Oh! it's a magnificent spot, and I'm hard at work on a picturesque old pump near Shepherd's Bush Common, with a bit of old brick wall behind it, half-covered with ivy, and a gipsy-like beggar-girl drinking at it out of her hand; that--that'll make an impression, I think, on the Royal Academy, if--if _they take it in_." "Ah! _if_ they take it in," said John Barret, smiling. "Well," retorted Fred Auberly, "I know that is a point of uncertainty, and I'm not very sanguine, because there is great lack of room. Nevertheless, I mean to send it. And you know, John, `faint heart never won fair lady,' so--" At this point the conversation was interrupted by a shrill whistle at the top of the house, which, as it drew nearer, became identified with the air of "Rule Britannia!" "That's Willie Willders," said Barret, laughing. "I guessed as much, and with your leave I'll call him in. He knows of my having become an inmate of his mother's house, and as he is probably going home I would like to send a message to his mother. Hallo, Willie." "Ay, ay, sir!" answered the youth, in the tones of a thoroughbred seaman. Not that Willie had ever been at sea, but he was so fond of seamen, and had mingled with them so much at the docks, as well as those of them who had become firemen, that he tried to imitate their gait and tones. "Come here, you scamp, and stop your noise." "Certainly, sir," said Willie, with a grin, as he entered the room, cap in hand. "Going home, lad?" asked Fred.