ways hates 'em."

The doctor laughed heartily. "Oh, how refreshing a thing it is to fall
in with a fellow who speaks his real mind. However, I am not your enemy,
am I?"

"No. You are the best friend I ever had--except my mother."

"I am glad you think so; because I have a favor to ask you."

"Granted, before ever you speak."

"I want to know, for certain, whether Simmons was the man who blew you
up; and I see but one way of learning it. You must visit him and be
kind to him; and then my art tells me, he won't leave the world without
telling you. Oblige me by taking him this bottle of wine, at once, and
also this sedative, which you can administer if he is in violent pain,
but not otherwise."

"Doctor," said the young man, "you always get your own way with me. And
so you ought."

Little stood by Simmons's bedside.

The man's eye was set, his cheek streaked with red, and his head was
bandaged. He labored in breathing.

Young Little looked at him gravely, and wondered whether this battered
figure was really the man who had so nearly destroyed him.

After some minutes of this contemplation, he said gravely "Simmons, I
have brought you some wine."

The man stared at him, and seemed confused. He made no reply.

"Give me a spoon," said Henry.

Mrs. Simmons sat by the bedside rocking herself; she was stupefied with
grief; but her sister, a handy girl, had come to her in her trouble: she
brought Henry a spoon directly.

He poured out a little wine, and put it to the sufferer's lips. He drank
it, and said it was rare good stuff. Henry gave him a little more.

Simmons then looked at him more intelligently and attentively, and gave
a sort of shiver. "Who be you?"

"Henry Little; who advised you not to run that stone."

"Ah!" said Simmons, "I thought it was you." He seemed puzzled. But,
after a while, he said, "I wish I had hearkened thee, lad. Give me some
more of yonder stuff. What is it?"

"Port wine." Then he turned to the girl, and gave her a sovereign, and
sent her out for some mutton-chops. "Meat and wine are all the physic
you are to have, my poor fellow."

"It won't be for long, lad. And a good job too. For I'm a bad 'un. I'm a
bad 'un."

Henry then turned to the poor woman, and tried to say something to
console her, but the words stuck in his throat. She was evidently near
her confinement; and there lay her husband, worse than in his grave.
Little broke down himself, while trying to comfort her.