RALPH STARTS ON ANOTHER JOURNEY As soon as their lodger had been removed, Mrs. Coates told her husband what he had said about Mrs. Waring. "And to think," she exclaimed, "that he should talk like that about his very own wife! I didn't tell you before 'cause I knew it 'ud rile you so." "I should think so," Jim cried out, "the good-for-nothing fellow. I should have been tempted to have picked him up and carried him straight off to the workhouse whether he wanted to go or whether he didn't." "Do you suppose Mrs. Waring knows how he's talked about her?" "No; shouldn't think so." "If she did, do you suppose she would have taken him home?" "Yes; that would make no difference to her. She's got too big a heart to hold spite against any one." "Did you know that she nursed Topsy Scarves for six weeks when she had the smallpox?" Jim shook his head. "No, but it's just like her if she did." "She did. Topsy wouldn't let no one else touch her, but she was like a lamb with Mrs. Waring; so Mrs. Waring stayed six weeks and let her business get on as well as it could without her. And when Mrs. Scarves wanted to thank her, she said she wasn't to, for it had been a real happy time for her. Mrs. Scarves says she did everything for Topsy, and wasn't frightened a wee bit. I told you Mrs. Bessie Jones offered to get Mr. Wood,--no, Mr. Waring,--into Warley Hospital. Do you think she knew who he was?" "Did she see him?" "No, she only heard him cough." "I wish to goodness she'd succeeded, and that it shouldn't have been in our house the Little Missis got such a blow! My! it was a staggerer for her when she heard him cough! I never saw any one look as she did! I wish we could help her in some way or other, that I do. I wonder God lets such a good woman like she is have so much trouble." "Perhaps it's trouble that's made her good," wisely remarked Mrs. Coates. "Perhaps so, it does some people." As soon as Ralph was safely in bed Janie was despatched for a doctor. His appearance alarmed Phebe more than ever. The cough was incessant, and occasionally thin streaks of blood were seen on the handkerchief. "I wish you'd get me a red handkerchief," he said, in an irritable voice. "A red handkerchief! Why? I haven't got one." "Yes, a red handkerchief. And if you don't possess such a thing, you could get one, couldn't you? I shouldn't see that blood if I had a red handkerchief." "I did not know exactly what you meant. I'll get you one at once out of the shop." It was the same old Ralph, always wanting to cover up trouble, never able to fairly and boldly face consequences. The doctor pronounced him in a dangerous condition, promised to send something at once to ease the cough, and in the morning would examine him more thoroughly. "But I am afraid he is not long for this world, Mrs. Waring," he said, as he bade her good-night; "he has had a very hard life lately, that is very evident."