"`Just for a few days, Sam,' she says, but he shook his head, poor chap, thinking of pay night, and not wanting to go on his club; and so she used to wait at a corner for him, and bring him drops of warm broth and cups of tea, and little things she thought he'd fancy, for the poor fellow was like a horse off his feed; but it was all of no use. "I used to drive mostly the 'bus that went afore his and used to see her, pale-faced and anxious, waiting at the corner till he came, which was only ten minutes after mine--this being a busy time, you know; and Sam and I having been friends, I used to nod to her, for it's no use to come the reg'lar s'loot with the whip you know. But, as I said afore, it was all no use; and Sam got worse and worse--reg'lar touched, poor chap--and one night, as he was coming back off his last journey, pulls up sudden like aside the road gives the office with his whip to the conductor, and then drops the reins. Held out to the very last he had, like a Briton, and then as I said they had to lift him down, when the conductor sent him home in a cab, collected the fares, then got up and drove the rest of the journey himself. "Terrible bad Sam was, poor chap, and first one and then another of us went to sit up with him, for he was delirious best part of the time. My turn came twice over, and I went after I'd had a bit of supper--tripe and onions, and a drop o' dog's nose we had that night, and out and out it was, too, for my missus said that them as sat up with sick people ought allus to have something supporting--which I say, you know, just to show that we didn't have tripe and onions every night; for, you know, the wages wouldn't run to it. "So I gets there and finds all made comfortable and him bedded down for the night--for his missus was as good a sort as ever a driver married: snug bit of fire; kettle singing on the hob; easy chair aside the fire, Sam's medicine on a little table, ready to give him when he woke up; one of his rugs to wrap round me when I got shivery towards morning; and my medicine on the chimney-piece--drop of gin, tumbler, teaspoon, and sugar, with half a lemon on a plate. "`I'll come down about five, and make you a cup of tea,' says Sam's wife. "`No you won't,' I says gruffly. `I'll call you about seven,' I says, `for I must be off then; so you'd better get a good-night's rest.' "She didn't say much, for, poor thing! she'd got into a way then of breaking down and crying at the least word; but she went and straightened Sam's bed a bit, just as you've seen a woman do when the bed don't want touching; then she leaned over and kissed him, and went off upstairs with the children.