Willie had gone
home, so he followed him up, and soon found himself at Notting Hill
before the door of Mrs Willders' humble abode. The door was opened by
Willie himself, who stared in some surprise at the stately visitor.

"Is William Willders at 'ome?" said Hopkins.

"I rather think he is," replied Willie, with a grin; "who shall I say
calls on him--eh? You'd better send up your card."

Hopkins frowned, but, being a good-natured man, he immediately smiled,
and said he would walk in.

"I think," said Willie, interposing his small person in the way, "that
you'd as well stop where you are, for there's a invalid in the
drawing-room, and all the other rooms is engaged 'cept the kitchen,
which of course I could not show _you_ into. Couldn't you deliver your
message? I could manage to carry it if it ain't too heavy."

In a state of uncertainty as to how far this was consistent with his
dignity, Hopkins hesitated for a moment, but at length delivered his
message, with which Willie returned to the parlour.

Here, on the little sofa, lay the tall form of Frank Willders, arrayed
in an old dressing-gown, and with one of his legs bandaged up and
motionless. His face was pale, and he was suffering great pain, but a
free-and-easy smile was on his lips, for beside him sat a lady and a
young girl, the latter of whom was afflicted with strong sympathy, but
appeared afraid to show it. Mrs Willders, with a stocking and
knitting-wires in her hands, sat on a chair at the head of the bed,
looking anxious, but hopeful and mild. An open Bible which lay on a
small table at her side, showed how she had been engaged before the
visitors entered.

"My good sir," said the lady, with much earnestness of voice and manner,
"I assure you it grieves me to the heart to see you lying in this state,
and I'm quite sure it grieves Emma too, and all your friends. When I
think of the risks you run and the way you dash up these dreadful fire--
fire--things--what-d'ye-call-ums. What _do_ you call them?"

"Fire-escapes, ma'am," answered Frank, with a smile.

"Ah, fire-escapes (how you ever come down them alive is a mystery to me,
I'm sure!) But as I was saying, it makes one shudder to think of; and--
and--how does your leg feel _now_?" said Miss Tippet, forgetting what
she had intended to say.

"Pretty well," replied Frank; "the doctor tells me it has broken without
splintering, and that I'll be all right in a few weeks, and fit for duty
agai