"They on’y let me out s’mornin’." This statement was audited and found correct by Mrs. Tusker. "On’y this mornin’," she said. "This is the state I find ’er in," continued Mr. Tusker. "Orfer oats. They put me away. See? And there wasn’t no one to look arter ’er." "Nobody to look arter me," agreed the wife. "Her neck must be troubling her too," began the doctor. "I see she’s been rather badly sca——" "Never mind the scalding," protested Mr. Tusker. "Give ’er some physic, Doctor." "Yus," echoed Mrs. Tusker. "Gimme some physic." "You see," explained the husband, evidently determined that this important detail in the history of the case should not be overlooked, "I bin away. They put me away for three weeks. And this is ’ow I find ’er. She ain’t ’ad no one to look arter ’er. See? Give ’er some physic, Doctor." So they had their physic, and they went away. I watched them passing up the road, Mr. Tusker limping behind his barrow and this peculiar old sack of his limping behind Mr. Tusker. And Mr. Tusker, as he limped, was declaiming a kind of poem—a rude sort of piece; but I’ve no doubt that in the ears of the old sack-thing at his heel, that which he uttered was as the music of the spheres. And the words of his poem were these:— Any old bottles? Any old rags? Old bones, Rabbit-skins, Waste paper, To buy! As they receded into the endless perspective of Bovingdon Street, the sacks became confused in my sight, and I wondered which of them contained the rags and bones and bottles, or which was occupied by rabbit-skins and Mrs. Tusker.... Not that it really mattered. *XIII* *ART LOVERS* Mr. Clarence Gordon Prince appeared first in the capacity of a patient. He came to have a tooth out. "Three teeth out, to tell ye the troof, Doctor," he added, and with the air of a man who had given a liberal order and knew it, he seated himself, throwing back his head and shutting both eyes. "Want ’em all out now—at once?" demanded the doctor. "Cert’nly," responded Clarence. "I’m a gunner." Dr. Brink evidently perceived the point of this observation, for he made no further speech, but drew the teeth forthwith. And Clarence kept on smiling. He performed his subsequent ablutions in silence, but, having completed them and deposited three sixpences upon the consulting-room table, he again spoke. "Well, Doctor," he said, "I’ll say good-night, and pop off," which he did. But when he reached the door-step, Baffin found him, and Baffin rejoiced in the find. "You’ve been a soldier?" exclaimed Baffin. "Gun-layer. ’Owitzer Battery, R.A. Nine year. Invalided." Clarence smiled again. "I want you," said Baffin. "Wait there." Mr. Prince accordingly waited, and his patience was rewarded by the reappearance of Baffin, with whom was Dr. Brink. "This gentleman," said the doctor, "is an artist. He wants you to sit for him. How tall are you?"