Upon this night Mr. Marrapit was himself abed of the chill that Margaret had mentioned in her note to Bill. But the review was not therefore foregone. Upon his back, night-capped head on pillow propped, he lay as the minute-hand of his clock ticked towards ten. His brow ruffled against a sound without his door. He called: “Mrs. Armitage!” “Sir?” spoke Mrs. Armitage through the oak. “Breathe less stertorously.” Mrs. Armitage, his cook, waiting outside upon the mat, gulped wrath; respirated through open mouth. The clock at Mr. Marrapit's elbow gave the first chime of ten. Instantly Mrs. Armitage tapped. “Enter,” said Mr. Marrapit. She waddled her stout figure to him. Behind her Clara and Ada, those trim maids, took place. Mr. Marrapit addressed her. “To-morrow, Mrs. Armitage, arouse your girls at six. Speed them at their toilet; set them to clean your flues.” He glanced at a tablet taken from beneath his pillow. “At 4.6 this afternoon I smelt soot.” “The flues were cleaned this morning, sir.” “Untrue. Your girls were late. Prone in suffering upon my couch, my ears tell me all that is accomplished in every part of the house. Ten minutes after your girls descended I heard the kitchen fire roar. I suspect paraffin.” Mrs. Armitage wriggled to displace the blame. “I rose them at six, sir. They sleep that heavy and they take that long to dressing, it's a wonder to me they ever do get down.” Mr. Marrapit addressed the sluggards. “Shun the enervating couch. Spring to the call. Cleanliness satisfied, adorn not the figure; pursue the duties. Ponder this. Seek help to effect it. Contrive a special prayer. To your beds.” They left him; upon the mat encountered Frederick, and him, in abandon of relief, dug vitally with vulgar thumbs. II. Squirming, Frederick, the gardener's boy, advanced to the bedside. Mr. Marrapit sternly regarded him: “Recite your misdeeds.” “I've done me jobs, sir.” “Prostrated, I cannot check your testimony. One awful eye above alone can tell. Upon your knees this night search stringently your heart. Bend.” Frederick inclined his neck until his forehead was upon the coverlet. Mr. Marrapit scanned the neck. “Behind the ears are stale traces. Cleanse abundantly. To your bed.” Without the door Frederick encountered Mr. Fletcher. “You let me catch you reading abed to-night,” Mr. Fletcher warned him. “Cleanse yer blarsted ear-'oles,” breathed Frederick, pushing past. III. Mr. Fletcher moved in to the presence. “Is all securely barred, bolted and shuttered?” Mr. Marrapit asked. “It's all right.” “I am apprehensive. This is the first night I have not accompanied you upon your round. Colossal responsibility lies upon you. Should thieves break through and steal, upon your head devolves the crime.” Wearily Mr. Fletcher repeated: “It's all right.”