"'I knows that,' says Jackson softly. 'An' 'avin' seen your missus, I can understand 'ow it is you don't mind takin' a few risks.' "'You ain't doin' yourself no good by bein' insolent,' says the 'ead warder 'otly. 'You go and open that there door, or you'll be losin' your job afore ye're many minutes older.' "''Tain't my business to open the door,' says Jackson in an obstinate voice. 'You're the 'ead warder, an' you 'as a right to the post of danger. Besides, maybe the microbe won't bite you. 'E looks a bit partikler.' "The 'ead warder gets very red in the face an' breathes 'ard through 'is nose. 'If I 'ad you outside the prison, my lad,' 'e begins, an' then rememberin' 'is position 'e pulls 'isself together, an' walks orf towards the door o' the cell. "'E were that there riled that 'e as near as possible turned the key 'an went in without realizin' wot 'e were playin' at. Jest as 'e 'ad 'is 'and on the door, 'owever, 'e suddenly comes to 'is senses, an' I tells yer it give 'im a fair shiver all over to think 'ow near 'e'd been to doin' it. 'E bends down 'is 'ead an' listens, an' 'e 'ears the microbe a-grindin' of 'is teeth an' the doctor tryin' to quiet 'im down. "'B24,' says 'e, rappin' at the door, an' tryin' to keep 'is voice steady. "'I b'lieve I 'ave that honour,' says the doctor. "'The guv'nor wishes to see yer immedjut.' "'How! does 'e?' says the doctor, 'that shows 'is good taste.' "The 'ead warder 'esitates a moment. 'If I opens this door,' says 'e, 'will yer promise to keep that there microbe o' yourn from flyin' at me?' "The doctor laughs 'earty. ''E won't touch yer if yer don't worry 'im,' 'e says. 'Jest keep that lop-eared Jackson out o' the light, an' turn yer own face away, an' 'e'll be as quiet as a lamb, won't yer, old boy?' "The microbe gives a kind o' snarl, much as to say 'e weren't so sure about it. "Seein' as 'ow the guv'nor were waitin', 'owever, and there weren't no 'elp for it, the 'ead warder turns the key an' pushes open the door o' the cell. Jackson e' takes a couple o' 'asty steps down a side passage, an' out comes the doctor with the microbe a-sittin' on 'is shoulder. When 'e sees the 'ead warder 'e fair chatters with rage." "Who does," asks Sam, "the doctor?" "No, the microbe, o' course," answered Mr. Parbury; "an' wot's more, if yer goes on interruptin' yer can finish the bloomin' story yerself." "Don't mind old Sam, Mr. Parbury," put in Bill consolingly. "'E don't never get no chanst to open 'is mouth at 'ome, so 'e 'as to let a bit of steam off when 'e's out." Sam was just thinking hard of something unpleasant to say in return, when Mr. Parbury again took up the thread of his narrative.