"No," she answered, she was not hurt, and she marvelled at his composure. Some other person in the throng was commenting audibly upon his calmness, and received for answer the reply from a neighbor that Mr. Loveday must be well insured. "No," he said, turning to the speakers, "I am not insured for a penny." They were surprised to hear this bad news, and poured condolence upon him. "Uncle," whispered Nansie, pulling his head down to hers, "will it hurt you very much?" "That has to be seen, my dear," he replied, with a cheerful smile. "Not in spirits," she continued, gazing at him in pity and admiration; "I know now what real courage is. But in your business." "If what I've heard is true," said Mr. Loveday, "I am being burned out stock and block, and shall have no business left. In which case, Timothy, you will lose a situation." "Don't think of me, sir," said Timothy, ruefully. "Think of yourself." "I shall have plenty of time to do that, my lad." "This is the second time," said Timothy, "that I've been burned out of a situation. I had better not take another. I do nothing but bring misfortune upon my masters." "Nonsense, Timothy, nonsense. It is the fortune of war, and we must fight through these defeats as best we can." He asked for the mistress of the house they were in, and inquired whether she had a furnished room to let. There happened to be one fortunately on the second floor, and Mr. Loveday at once engaged it, and assisted Nansie up-stairs. They had hardly been in the room a moment when the landlady appeared with a cradle for baby. "It ain't mine," she observed; "Mrs. Smithson, next door, run and got it for you. She's a good creature is Mrs. Smithson, and has had seven of her own. She expects her next in about three weeks." Nansie sent her thanks to Mrs. Smithson, and thanked the landlady also. "Oh, that's all right," said the landlady. "Mothers are mothers, you know, and Mrs. Smithson is that fond of babies that it's my belief she could live on 'em." In which description of Mrs. Smithson's fondness for babies the landlady did not seem to consider that there was anything at all alarming. "And look here, my dear," she continued, "don't you take on. That's my advice--don't take on. The misfortune's bad enough, but there's worse, a thousand times. I'll see that you're nice and comfortable--and I say, Mr. Loveday, you can stop here a fortnight for nothing, you not being insured, and being always so kind and obliging to everybody. There's nobody better thought of than you, and it's a pity we ain't all of us rich." "A great pity," said Mr. Loveday, shaking the landlady's hand, "and I am grateful to you for your offer; but I have no doubt we shall be able to scrape up the rent. If you could make my niece a cup of tea now." "Ay, that I will," said the good woman, "and fresh, too, not the leavings; and she'll take it from me as a compliment, won't you, my dear?"