The captain spent the morning on the steps, his difficulties being by no means lessened by the _tremolo_ movement which Martha called steadying them. Twice he was nearly shaken from his perch like an over-ripe plum, but all went well until they were hanging the curtains in the best bed-room, when Martha, stooping to recover a dropped ring, shut the steps up like a pair of compasses. The captain, who had hold of the curtains at the time, brought them down with him, and lay groaning on the floor. With the help of her mistress, who came hurrying up on hearing the fall, Martha got him on to the bed and sent for the doctor. “How do you feel?” inquired Mrs. Willett, eying him anxiously. “Bad,” said the captain, closing his eyes. “Every bone in my body is broken, I believe. It feels like it.” Mrs. Willett shook her head and sought for words to reassure him. “Keep your spirits up,” she said, encouragingly. “Don’t forget that: ’There’s a sweet little cherub that sits up aloft to look after the life of poor Jack.’” Captain Sellers opened his eyes and regarded her fixedly. “He wouldn’t ha’ been sitting there long if that fool Martha had been holding the steps,” he said, with extraordinary bitterness. He closed his eyes again and refused to speak until the doctor came. Then, having been stripped and put to bed for purposes of examination, he volunteered information as to his condition which twice caused the doctor to call him to order. “You ought to be thankful it’s no worse,” he said, severely. The captain sniffed. “When you’ve done pinching my leg,” he said, disagreeably, “I’ll put it back into bed again.” The doctor relinquished it at once, and, standing by the bed, regarded him thoughtfully. “Well, you’ve had a shock,” he said at last, “and you had better stay in bed for a few days.” “Not here,” said Mrs. Willett, quickly. “My daughter and her husband will be home in a day or two.” The doctor looked thoughtful again; then he bent and spoke in the captain’s ear. “We are going to move you to your own house,” he said. “No, you’re not,” said the other, promptly. “You’ll be more comfortable there,” urged the doctor. “I’m not going to be moved,” said Captain Sellers, firmly. “It might be fatal. I had a chap once—fell from aloft—and after he’d been in the saloon for a day or two I had him carried for’ard, and he died on the way. And he wasn’t nearly as bad as I am.” “Well, we’ll see how you are to-morrow,” said the doctor, with a glance at Mrs. Willett. “I shall be worse to-morrow,” said the captain, cheerfully. “But I don’t want to give any trouble. Send my housekeeper in to look after me. She can sleep in the next room.” They argued with him until his growing deafness rendered argument useless. A certain love of change and excitement would not be denied. Captain Sellers, attended by his faithful housekeeper, slept that night at No. 5, and awoke next morning to find his prognostications as to his condition fully confirmed.