As Jim glanced at the old creature he realised that this quarrelsome, ill-favoured hag and he were companions in distress--united by a law-breaking bond! He, inflamed by whisky, had fought six policemen; she, supping cheap gin, had burst into a senile frenzy and set upon some other hag with her claw-like nails and the weapon that came first to hand. The same law applied to both of them--she, a rag-picker, and he, the heir to a bountiful fortune and many smiling acres in Eastfolkshire. "Pah!" he exclaimed, as he hastened to reach cleaner air, "let’s get out of this! Thank goodness _that’s_ over!" "No harm done," said Koko, cheerily. "I know the two men in the reporters’ box, and they both promised not to write a word about you." "By George! that’s jolly of them!" exclaimed the Long ’Un. "My grand-guv’nor won’t get to hear of it after all, then." "It would have made a tasty little par," said Koko, with a pressman’s instinctive knowledge of what newspapers like. "It would," said Jim. "I can imagine how it would have read." "But they won’t write a word. They’re good sorts," said Koko. And so the Long ’Un made his way back to Matt’s, lighter, it is true, of purse, but very much lighter of heart as well, than when he set out to the police-court that morning. News of Jim’s display of pugilistic prowess had preceded him to the hospital--for one of the students had been an eye-witness of the battle--and he was saluted by the unruly crew there with acclamation. But Jim still had the taste of the police-court air in his mouth, and did not feel at all heroic. But for Koko’s intervention his name would have been in a good many papers on the following day, and perhaps a briefer notice of "Hodgkins" and her misuse of domestic implements would have followed the account of the young doctor’s "disorderly conduct." That day he went home early, and tried to do some reading. He ended up, however, by going to a theatre with Koko. On the next evening he really did do some reading, and this studious fit lasted for quite a week. "The Long ’Un," said the red-haired student at Matt’s, "is turning over a new leaf. I will buy him a prize." When Jim, on reaching the hospital next day, entered the students’ common-room, he found a neat package, addressed to himself, occupying a prominent position on the mantelpiece. On opening the package he found that it consisted of a nice little one-and-sixpenny book, of the kind published by religious societies, entitled "Jim’s Repentance: _The Story of a Bad Boy Who Saw the Evils of His Ways._" The red-haired youth took the precaution of putting the table between himself and the Long ’Un ere he said: "Had to go through a catalogue before I found a suitable prize for you, Jim. Girl in the shop helped me." Jim flung it at his head. "Naughty, angry Jim!" said the red-haired student, reprovingly, as he dodged the book. "I shall take your prize away from you now."