Do you want to know why that ruffian flung the stone at the young master's head? Nay, I do not know. How should I know why men want to kill one another? All I know is that a man threw a stone, and then hid himself in a dark corner, and that a boy was struck by that stone, and now lies a-dying. They say that the young master was good and kind to poor people. Maybe. I do not know. It is all one to me. Kind or cruel, old or young, alive or dead--folk are all one to me. So long as I am paid my wages I shall stop where I am; and when those wages cease I shall move elsewhere and cook for some one else, or, maybe, give up working altogether, for I am growing old, and sometimes mistake salt for sugar. Or perhaps I shall be discharged, and told to go about my business, so that they may get another cook in my place. Well, what of that? I shall just go--that is all. Every place is the same to me--here, there, or anywhere; every place is the same to me. [_Re-enter the Doctor, accompanied by the Man and his Wife. Both the latter are now grown old and grey. Yet, though the Man walks with his body slightly bent, he holds his head (to which his shaggy, upstanding hair and long beard impart something of a leonine appearance) erect. Likewise, though he has to don a pair of silver-rimmed spectacles whenever he wishes to observe an object closely, his glance still flashes keenly and directly from under his grey eyebrows._] ~The Doctor.~~ Your son has fallen into a deep sleep, and you must not wake him. Perhaps it is the best sign at present. But you yourselves ought to take some rest. People who have time to sleep should _use_ it, and not waste the precious hours of the night in walking about and talking, as _I_ have to do. ~The Man's Wife.~~ We thank you, doctor. You have greatly reassured us. Are you coming again to-morrow? ~The Doctor.~~ Yes, and the next day as well. (_To the Old Woman_) You too ought to be in bed. Every one ought to be in bed at this time of night. Is that my way out--through that door there? I so often make mistakes! [_Exit with the Old Woman._ ~The Man.~~ (_Taking up the sketch-plan from his Worktable._) Look at this, my wife. It is something which I had begun upon just before our boy's accident happened. I remember stopping in the middle of that line and thinking, "I will take a little rest now, and continue it later." See how simple and easy that line was to draw! Yet how strange to look upon it and think, "Perhaps this may prove to have been the last line which I drew while our boy was yet alive!" With what an unconscious air of ill-omen do its very straightness and simplicity seem charged! ~His Wife.~~ Nay; do not fret yourself, my darling, but chase away these despondent thoughts from you. I feel sure now that the doctor spoke truth--that our boy, will recover. ~The Man.~~