He opened his eyes suddenly and then, closing one, gazed hard at the bewildered Gale. “To-morrow afternoon at two,” he said, briskly, “me and Charlie’ll be there waiting.” “Suppose old Wragg ain’t out?” objected Mr. Gale, after ten minutes’ explanation. “He’s at the ‘Lobster Pot’ five days out of six at that time,” was the reply; “if he ain’t there tomorrow, it can’t be helped.” Mr. Gale spent the evening practising falls in a quiet lane, and by the time night came had attained to such proficiency that on the way home he fell off without intending it. It seemed an easier thing than he had imagined, and next day at two o’clock punctually he put his lessons into practice. By a slight error in judgment his head came into contact with Mr. Wragg’s doorstep, and, half-stunned, he was about to rise, when Mr. Harris rushed up and forced him down again. Mr. Brown, who was also in attendance, helped to restore his faculties by a well-placed kick. “He’s lost his senses,” said Mr. Harris, looking up at Miss Miller, as she came to the door. “You could ha’ heard him fall arf a mile away,” added Mr. Brown. Miss Miller stooped and examined the victim carefully. There was a nasty cut on the side of his head, and a general limpness of body which was alarming. She went indoors for some water, and by the time she returned the enterprising Mr. Harris had got the patient in the passage. “I’m afraid he’s going,” he said, in answer to the girl’s glance. “Run for the doctor,” she said, hastily. “Quick!” “We don’t like to leave ’im, miss,” said Mr. Harris, tenderly. “I s’pose it would be too much to ask you to go?” Miss Miller, with a parting glance at the prostrate man, departed at once. “What did you do that for?” demanded Mr. Gale, sitting up. “I don’t want the doctor; he’ll spoil everything. Why didn’t you go away and leave us?” “I sent ’er for the doctor,” said Mr. Harris, slowly. “I sent ’er for the doctor so as we can get you to bed afore she comes back.” “_Bed_?” exclaimed Mr. Gale. “Up you go,” said Mr. Harris, briefly. “We’ll tell _her_ we carried you up. Now, don’t waste time.” Pushed by his friends, and stopping to expostulate at every step, Mr. Gale was thrust at last into Mr. Wragg’s bedroom. “Off with your clothes,” said the leading spirit. “What’s the matter with you, Charlie Brown?” “Don’t mind me; I’ll be all right in a minute,” said that gentleman, wiping his eyes. “I’m thinking of old Wragg.” [Illustration: “‘What did you do that for?’ demanded Mr. Gale, sitting up.”] Before Mr. Gale had made up his mind his coat and waistcoat were off, and Mr. Brown was at work on his boots. In five minutes’ time he was tucked up in Mr. Wragg’s bed; his clothes were in a neat little pile on a chair, and Messrs. Harris and Brown were indulging in a congratulatory double-shuffle by the window. “Don’t come to your senses yet awhile,” said the former; “and when you do, tell the doctor you can’t move your limbs.”