"He ought to be, sir; if he bain't shamming," returned Hall, crustily. "He have fell down five times since noon, and the last time wouldn't get up upon his feet again nohow. Being close a-nigh the old lady's I carried of him in." Hall went back to the house with me. I don't think he much liked the boy's looks. Dick had been put to lie on the warm brick floor before the kitchen fire, a blanket on his legs, and his head on a cushion. Mrs. Parry was ill in bed upstairs. The servant looked a stupid young country girl, seemingly born without wits. "Have you given him anything?" I asked her. "Please, sir, I've put the kettle on to bile." "Is there any brandy in the house?" "_Brandy!_" the girl exclaimed with wonder. No. Her missis never took anything stronger nor tea and water gruel. "Hall," I said, looking at the man, "some one must go for Mr. Duffham. And Dick's mother might as well be told." Bill Leet, a strapping young fellow standing by, made off at this, saying he'd bring them both. Hall went away to his team, and I stooped over the boy. "What is the matter, Dick? Tell me how you feel." Except that Dick smiled a little, he made no answer. His eyes, gazing up into mine, looked dim. The girl had taken away the candle, but the fire was bright. As I took one of his hands to rub it, his fingers clasped themselves round mine. Then he began to say something, with a pause between each word. I had to bend close to catch it. "He--brought--that--there--strap." "All right, Dick." "Thank--ee--sir." "Are you in any pain, Dick?" "No." "Or cold?" "No." The girl came back with a candle and some hot milk in a tea-cup. I put a teaspoonful into Dick's mouth. But he could not swallow it. Who should come rushing in then but old Jones the constable, wanting to know what was up. "Well I never!--why, that's Mitchel's Dick!" cried Jones, peering down in the candle-light. "What's took _him_?" "Jones, if you and the girl will rub his hands, I'll go and get some brandy. We can't let him lie like this and give him nothing." Old Jones, liking the word brandy on his own score, knelt down on his fat gouty legs with a groan, and laid hold of one of the hands, the girl taking the other. I went leaping off to Elm Farm. And went for nothing. Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson being out, the cellar was locked up, and no brandy could be got at. The cook gave me a bottle of gooseberry wine; which she said might do as well if hotted up. Duffham was stooping over the boy when I got back, his face long, and his cane lying on the ironing-board. Bill Leet had met him half-way, so no time was lost. He was putting something into Dick's lips with a teaspoon--perhaps brandy. But it ran the wrong way; out instead of in. Dick never stirred, and his eyes were shut. The doctor got up. "Too late, Johnny," he whispered. The words startled me. "Mr. Duffham! No?" He looked into my eyes, and nodded YES. "The exposure to-day has been too much for him. He is going fast."