His uncle made a few desperate struggles to regain his feet, but finding that impossible, he turned over on his side, and lay there a most deplorable object. He muttered a few incoherent words, but they gradually ceased, and, to his nephew's disgust, he was soon snoring heavily. [Illustration: As Phil was about to extinguish the light, a sudden thought struck him.] "Will nothing bring him to his senses?" said Phil to himself, as, his passion having subsided, he glanced with loathing at the unconscious object of his remarks. "He gets worse and worse. I cannot stay here alone with him. I'd sooner sleep under an archway, or in any hole I can creep into, than with such a wretch as that. I'll put out the candle in case of accident, and be off." As Phil was about to extinguish the light, a sudden thought struck him. His uncle had a deep and intense horror of fire; had always had indeed since the terrible accident that had killed his little baby-girl. A good blaze would frighten his uncle out of his wits, or perhaps into them, and Phil smiled grimly at his miserable joke. Besides he felt that it would be a sweet revenge for those insulting words that his uncle had cast at him. If only he could manage to kindle a fire that would do no damage to the house, and yet be sufficient to lighten up the room brilliantly, and restore his uncle to his senses! Well would it have been for Phil had he resolutely put aside the evil desires that prompted him! Little did he know what misery and trouble he was bringing upon himself and others by indulging in that wicked spirit of hatred and revenge. Millie! Millie! Is your dear presence so near, and yet has your gentle face no power to stop him? See, Phil studies how best he can put his plan into execution, but for some time, he shakes his head negatively at each suggestion. "I have it," he exclaims at last. In the fender, piled up for the morning's use, are a number of little bits of dry wood, and a heap of straw and shavings, which Millie had considerately put there before she left. With trembling fingers Phil places the candlestick in the fender, and builds around it with the sticks and shavings, till only half the candle, which is a long one, is visible above the heap. It will blaze up finely presently, he thinks. His uncle will be sure to wake and the flames will frighten him well night to death—and Phil laughs triumphantly. Perhaps he'll be sober for a good while after that. Anyhow it shall be a lesson to him. Then surveying his work with a wicked delight, and with a last glance at his uncle, who is still snoring on the floor, he goes out of the room resolving to spend the night as best he can in the streets. On the landing he pauses. Something whispers him to enter the tiny room belonging to his sister. Would that he had yielded to that better impulse!