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"I'm on my club, and if as 'ow I get well in a day or two, there's no reason why the company should give me any money. I'm pore, but I'm honest." "Take my advice as a friend," said the other; "take the money while you can get it." He nodded significantly at Mr. Scutts and closed one eye. Mr. Scutts closed both of his. "I 'ad my back hurt in the collision," he said, after a long pause.

"Right-o," said the obliging Mr. Flynn. "Just step in and tell my landlady I'm 'aving a chat with Bill." He lit his pipe and sat up in bed smoking until a knock at the front door at half-past eleven sent him off to sleep again. Mrs. Scutts, who was sitting downstairs, opened it and admitted her husband. "All serene?" he inquired. "What are you looking like that for? What's up?"

He placed a dangling hand about his neck and, staggering under the weight, reeled backwards supporting Mr. Scutts, whose other arm was round the neck of a third man. In a flash Mrs. Scutts was at the door. "Oh, Bill!" she gasped. "And by daylight, too!" Mr. Scutts raised his head sharply and his lips parted; then his head sank again, and he became a dead weight in the grasp of his assistants.

"It's no good standing there saying your little piece of poetry to yourself. Take off your clo'es and get to bed like a little man. Now! now! Naughty! Naughty!" "P'r'aps I oughtn't to 'ave let 'em up, Bill," said his wife; "but I was afraid they'd smell a rat if I didn't. Besides, I was took by surprise." "You get off to bed," said Mr. Scutts. "Get off to bed while you're safe."

Scutts, beyond remarking that he felt chilly, made no complaint. He endeavoured, but in vain, to perform the tests suggested, and even did his best to stand, supported by his medical attendant. Self-preservation is the law of Nature, and when Mr. Scutts's legs and back gave way he saw to it that the doctor was underneath.

He's got a healthy colour a very healthy colour." Mr. Scutts waited until he had left the house and then made a few remarks on the colour question that for impurity of English and strength of diction have probably never been surpassed.

"What for?" inquired Mr. Scutts, with a notable lack of interest. "For well, to go away for a day or two," said the visitor. "I find you in bed; it may be a cold or a bilious attack; or perhaps you had a little upset of the nerves when the trains kissed each other." "I'm in bed because I can't walk-or stand," said Mr. Scutts, speaking very distinctly.

"He's all right," said one of them, turning to Mrs. Scutts. A deep groan from Mr. Scutts confirmed the statement. "What is it?" inquired his wife, anxiously. "Just a little bit of a railway accident," said one of the strangers. "Train ran into some empty trucks. Nobody hurt seriously," he added, in response to a terrible and annoyed groan from Mr. Scutts. With his feet dragging helplessly, Mr.

Scutts, in his tumbled bed, lay watching the rain beating softly on the window-panes. Then one morning he awoke to the darkness of a London fog. "It gets worse and worse," said Mrs. Scutts, as she returned home in the afternoon with a relish for his tea. "Can't see your 'and before your face." Mr. Scutts looked thoughtful.

"He mustn't go," said Mrs. Scutts. "Those gentlemen are coming again, and they think he is you." "WHAT!" roared the infuriated Mr. Scutts. "Don't you see? It's me what's got the pore back now, Bill," said Mr. Flynn. "You can't pass yourself off as me, Bill; you ain't good-looking enough." Mr. Scutts, past speech, raised his clenched fists to the ceiling.