IEND

The post-office was not robbed that night, neither did the silver sugar-
tongs disappear, though Paul Blackthorn was no farther off than the hay-
loft at Farmer Shepherd's, where he had obtained leave to sleep.

But he did not go away with morning, though the hay-making was over.
Ellen saw him sitting perched on the empty waggon, munching his
breakfast, and to her great vexation, exchanging nods and grins when
Harold rode by for the morning's letters; and afterwards, there was a
talk between him and the farmer, which ended in his having a hoe put into
his hand, and being next seen in the turnip-field behind the farm.

To make up for the good day, this one was a very bad one with poor
Alfred. There was thunder in the air, and if the sultry heat weighed
heavily even on the healthy, no wonder it made him faint and exhausted,
disposed to self-pity, and terribly impatient and fretful. He was
provoked by Ellen's moving about the room, and more provoked by Harold's
whistling as he cleaned out the stable; and on the other hand, Harold was
petulant at being checked, and vowed there was no living in the house
with Alfred making such a work. Moreover, Alfred was restless, and
wanted something done for him every moment, interrupting Ellen's work,
and calling his mother up from her baking so often for trifles, that she
hardly knew how to get through it.

The doctor, Mr. Blunt, came, and he too felt the heat, having spent hours
in going his rounds in the closeness and dust. He was a rough man, and
his temper did not always hold out; he told Alfred sharply that he would
have no whining, and when the boy moaned and winced more than he would
have done on a good day, he punished him by not trying to be
tender-handed. When Mrs. King said, perhaps a little lengthily, how much
the boy had suffered that morning, the doctor, wearied out, no doubt,
with people's complaints, cut her short rather rudely, 'Ay, ay, my good
woman, I know all that.'

'And can nothing be done, Sir, when he feels so sinking and weak?'

'Sinking--he must feel sinking--nothing to do but to bear it,' said Mr.
Blunt gruffly, as he prepared to go. 'Don't keep me now;' and as Alfred
held up his hand, and made some complaint of the tightness of the
bandage, he answered impatiently, 'I've no time for that, my lad; keep
still, and be glad you've nothing worse to complain of.'

'Then you don't think he is getting any better, Sir?' said Mrs. King,
keeping cl