Finding society gruffer than usual that morning, and not happening to meet with his or anybody else's fortune in any of the streets, through which he passed, he resolved to visit Martha Reading's abode; did so, and found her "not at home." With despairing disgust he then went to visit his sister. Mrs Crashington was obviously at home, for she opened the door to him, and held up her finger. "Hallo, Mag!" exclaimed Sparks, a little surprised. "Hush!" said Mrs Crashington, admitting him, "speak low." Thus admonished, Mr Sparks asked in a hoarse whisper, "what was up?" "Ned's had a bad fall, Phil," whispered Mrs Crashington, in a tremulous tone that was so unlike her usual voice as to make Sparks look at her in surprise not unmingled with anxiety. "You don't mean to say, Mag, that he's a-goin' to--to--knock under?" "I hope not, Phil, but--the doctor--" Here the poor woman broke down altogether, and sobbed quietly as she led her brother through the house, and into the little bed-room where the injured fireman lay. Ned's bruised, burned, and lacerated frame was concealed under a patchwork coverlet. Only his face was visible, but that, although the least injured part of his body, was so deadly pale that even Mr Sparks was solemnised by the supposition that he was in the presence of Death. "Oh, Ned, Ned!" exclaimed Maggie, unable to repress her grief, "can you--can you ever forgive me?" She laid her hand on the fireman's broad breast, and passionately kissed his brow. He opened his eyes, and whispered with difficulty, "Forgive you, Maggie? God for ever bless you." He could say no more, owing to excessive weakness. "Come, missus, you mustn't disturb him," said David Clazie, emerging from behind the curtains at the foot of the bed. "The doctor's orders was strict--to keep 'im quiet. You'd better go into the other room, an' your brother likewise. Pr'aps you might send 'im to tell Joe Dashwood to be ready." David Clazie, who was more a man of action than of words, quietly, but firmly, ejected the brother and sister from the little room while he was speaking, and, having shut the door, sat down at his post again as a guard over his sick comrade. "Seems to me it's all up with 'im," observed Sparks, as he stood gazing uneasily into the fire. As Mrs Crashington replied only by sobbing, he continued, after a few minutes-- "Does the doctor say it's all up, Mag?" "No, oh no," replied the poor woman, "he don't quite say so; but I can't git no comfort from that. Ned has lost _such_ a quantity of blood, it seems impossible for him to git round. They're goin' to try a operation on 'im to-day, but I can't understand it, an' don't believe in it. They talk of puttin' noo blood into 'im! An' that reminds me that the doctor is to be here at twelve. Do run round, Phil, to the Dashwoods, and tell Joe to be here in good time." "What's Joe wanted for?"