And below he heard the bell ringing more and more impatiently, as the
Doctor still remained on the wrong side of the door. In another minute
he must be admitted--and then!

Who will not sympathise with Mr. Bultitude as he approaches the crisis
of his misfortunes? I protest, for my own part, that as I am compelled
to describe him springing from step to step in wild terror, like a
highly respectable chamois before some Alpine marksman, my own heart
bleeds for him, and I hasten to end my distressing tale, and make the
rest of it as little painful as I may with honesty.

19. _The Reckoning_

MONTR. The father is victorious.
BELF. Let us haste
To gratulate his conquest.
1ST CAPT. We to mourn
The fortune of the son.
MASSINGER. _The Unnatural Combat._

Poor Mr. Bultitude, springing wildly upstairs in a last desperate effort
to avoid capture, had now almost reached his goal. Just above him was
the nursery landing, with its little wooden gate, and near it, leaning
against the wall, was a pair of kitchen steps, with which he had hopes
of reaching the roof, or the cistern loft, or some other safe and
inaccessible place. Better a night spent on the slates amongst the
chimney-pots than a bed in that terrible No. 6 Dormitory!

But here, too, fate was against him. He was not more than half-a-dozen
steps from the top, when, to his unspeakable horror, he saw a small form
in a white frock and cardinal-red sash come running out of the nursery,
and begin to descend slowly and cautiously, clinging to the banisters
with one chubby little hand.

It was his youngest son, Roly, and as soon as he saw this, he lost hope
once and for all; he could not escape being recognised, the child would
probably refuse to leave him, and even if he did contrive to get away
from him, it would be hopeless to make Roly understand that he was not
to betray his hiding-place.

So he stopped on the stairs, aghast at this new misfortune, and feeling
himself at the end of all his resources. Roly knew him at once, and
began to dance delightedly up and down on the stair in his little bronze
shoes. "Buzzer Dicky," he cried, "dear buzzer Dicky, tum 'ome to party!"

"It's not brother Dicky," said Paul miserably; "it's all a mistake."

"Oh, but it is though," said Roly; "and you don't know what Roly's
found."

"No, no," said Paul, tr