"No, my dear child," said Dr. Vinsen, "allow _me_ to know. You must have a linseed poultice on--your mother will see to it--and when I come again I will bring you some medicine. Permit me, Mrs. Death--a few words in private--a corner of the room will do." They withdrew into a corner, and Dick heard the chink of coin. "I will call to-morrow," said Dr. Vinsen, the private conference ended, "to see how we are getting on--how we are get-ting on. Nay, my dear madam--tears!--summon your fortitude, your strength of mind--but still, a gratifying tribute--a gra-ti-fy-ing tri-bute." Hat in hand, he shook hands with all in the room, a ceremony attended by considerable difficulty in consequence of the shyness of the children, but he would not let them off. "Dear, dear, dear! One, two, three, four, five, six, and our little Gracie makes seven--really, my dear madam, really! Good evening, Mr.--Mr.--dear me, my memory!" "Dick Remington," said Dick. "To be sure. Mr. Dick Remington. Good evening." Mrs. Death, candle in hand, waited to light him down. "So kind of you, but the passages _are_ rather dark." Those left in the darkened room heard his voice dying away in the words, "_Are_ ra-ther dark." When Mrs. Death re-entered the room, her face was flushed. Beckoning Dick aside she said in an excited tone, "He has given me two sovereigns. God bless him! It is like a light shining upon me. If only I could find my husband! Children, be good, and you shall have something nice for supper." "I'll run and get the linseed for you," said Dick, "while you put Gracie to bed." He was soon back, and Mrs. Death met him in the passage. "I can manage now, sir, thank you," she said, "but Gracie wants to wish you good night." Gracie coming to the door with an old blanket round her, he bent down and put his lips to her white face. "_That's_ what I wanted," she whispered, and kissed him. "You're a good sort, you are." He slipped a paper bag into her hand. "What's this for?" "Brandy balls for the young 'uns," he answered, and scudded away. "Oh, you _are_ a one!" she shouted hoarsely. "God bless you, Gracie!" he shouted back. "That's a windfall for Mrs. Death," he muttered when he was clear of Draper's Mews, "and may be the saving of Gracie. Dear little mite! Almost a skeleton, and the heart of a lion. Learn a lesson from her, Dick, and meet your own troubles like a man, and do your work, my lad, like one. It's brutal to be ungrateful, but still "I do not like thee, Dr. Fell, The reason why I cannot tell, But this I know, and know full well, I do not like thee, Dr. Fell." Now, who could Dick have been referring to as he repeated these lines with a thoughtful face? Certainly not to Dr. Fell. He was not acquainted with that gentleman. CHAPTER XIX. DICK PREPARES FOR A SIEGE AND COMMENCES SERIOUS OPERATIONS.