"Well, it's about time you was dead," nodded Joe. "Dead ye'self!" snarled the old man. "I'm a better figger of a man than ever you was--" "An' you would come," continued Joe serenely, as he deftly resettled the old fellow's sporty bow-tie. "You fair plagued me to bring ye along, didn't ye, old packet o' vindictiveness?" "Well, an' here I am, Joe, an' here I mean t' stay--no more climbin' fer me; I'm tired, me lad, tired!" Saying which, the Old Un spread his handkerchief on a convenient stair and proceeded to seat himself thereon with due regard for his immaculately creased trousers. "Well," growled Joe, "of all the perverse old raspers that ever I did see--" "That's enough, Joe, that's enough!" exclaimed the Old Un, fanning himself with his rakish hat. "Jest bend down and flick the dust off me shoes with your wipe, like a good lad, will ye? That's the worst o' these 'ere patent leathers; they looks well, but they sure ketches th' dust, Joe, they ketches the dust oncommon bad. So jest give 'em a flick over--me pore old back's too stiff t' let me reach 'em, what wi' me rheumatiz an' a floatin' kidney or so--" "Kidneys!" snarled Joe, drawing out a large bandanna handkerchief and polishing the old man's natty shoes until they shone resplendent. "What's the matter with ye blessed kidneys now?" "Don't I tell ye--they floats, Joe, they floats!" "Float!" growled Joe. "Float--where to?" "'Ere, there, an' everywhere, Joe, I can feel 'em! They're always a-gettin' theirselves all mixed up any'ow. Oh, it's an 'orrible complaint to 'ave kidneys like mine as gets theirselves lost." "Wish they'd lose you along with 'em!" growled Joe, shaking the dust from his handkerchief. "Joe," said the old man, putting on his hat and blinking up at him beneath its jaunty brim, "Joe, sometimes I fair despise ye!" "Well, despise away," nodded Joe, "only get up--stand up on them doddering old pins o' yourn." "Not me!" declared the Old Un, "I ain't goin' to climb no more o' these perishin' stairs--no, not for you nor nobody. 'Ere I am, me lad, an' 'ere I sits till you give me a piggy-back up to the top--me bein' a pore old cove with rheumatiz. I demands it--" "You'll what?" growled Joe, hard-breathing and indignant. "Demand it, Joe--a pore old feller wi' kidneys--an' every other ailment as flesh is hair to--a piggy-back, Joe--a piggy-back!" Without another word Joe stooped, and lifting the old man beneath one arm, bore him up the stairs regardless of his croaking protestations and fierce invective. "I said a piggy-back--oh, you blightin' perisher, I said a piggy-back," he snarled, his resplendent shoes twinkling in futile kicks. "Oh, Joe, there's times when I fair 'ates ye!" Thus, despite virulent curses and feeble kickings, Joe bore him on and up until, as he climbed the last flight, he was arrested by an exclamation from above, and glancing upward, beheld a tall, sharp-featured woman who leaned over the rail.