downstairs made him more rubicund than ever.
He sent for the club doctor next morning, and, pending his arrival, partook of a basin of arrowroot and drank a little beef-tea. A bottle of castor-oil and an empty pill-box on the table by the bedside added a little local colour to the scene.
"Any pain?" inquired the doctor, after an examination in which bony and very cold fingers had played a prominent part.
"Not much pain," said Mr. Scutts. "Don't seem to have no strength in my back."
"Ah!" said the doctor.
"I tried to get up this morning to go to my work," said Mr. Scutts, "but I can't stand! couldn't get out of bed."
"Fearfully upset, he was, pore dear," testified Mrs. Scutts. "He can't bear losing a day. I s'pose—I s'pose the railway company will 'ave to do something if it's serious, won't they, sir?"
"Nothing to do with me," said the doctor. "I'll put him on the club for a few days; I expect he will be all right soon. 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.
A second visitor that day came after dinner—a tall man in a frock-coat, bearing in his hand a silk hat, which, after a careful survey of the room, he hung on a knob of the bedpost.
"Mr. Scutts?" he inquired, bowing.
"That's me," said Mr. Scutts, in a feeble voice.
"I've called from the railway company," said the stranger. "We have seen now all those who left their names and addresses on Monday afternoon, and I am glad to say that nobody was really hurt. Nobody."
Mr. Scutts, in a faint voice, said he was glad to hear it.
"Been a wonder if they had," said the other, cheerfully. "Why, even the paint wasn't knocked off the engine. The most serious damage appears to be two top-hats crushed and an umbrella broken."
He leaned over the bed-rail and laughed joyously. Mr. Scutts, through
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