"It's not what we've lost that troubles us," said Jim, softened by Willie's sympathetic tone more than by his words; "but sister Ziza is took bad, an' she's a fairy at Drury Lane, an' takin' her down the fire-escape has well-nigh killed her, an' we've got sitch a cold damp cellar of a place to put her in, that I don't think she'll get better at all; anyhow, she'll lose her engagement, for she can't make two speeches an' go up in a silver cloud among blue fire with the 'flooenzer, an 'er 'air all but singed off 'er 'ead." Jim almost whimpered at this point, and Willie, quitting his side abruptly, went back to Frank (who was still standing an amused auditor of the clown), and demanded a shilling. "What for, lad?" "Never you mind, Blazes; but give me the bob, an' I'll pay you back before the week's out." Frank gave him a shilling, with which he at once returned to Jim, and thrusting it into his hand, said: "There, Jim, your dad's hard up just now. Go you an' get physic with that for the fairy. Them 'floo-enzers is ticklish things to play with. Where d'ye stop?" "Well, you _are_ a queer 'un; thank'ee all the same," said Jim, pocketing the shilling. "We've got a sort o' cellar just two doors east o' the burnt 'ouse. Why?" "'Cause I'll come an' see you, Jim. I'd like to see a live fairy in plain clo'se, with her wings off--" The rest of the sentence was cut short by the clown, who, having disposed of the old arm-chair to a chimney-sweep, ordered Jim to "'and up another harticle." At the same moment Frank touched Willie on the shoulder, and said, "Let's go, lad; I'll be late, I fear, for the gymnastics."