hey laid the body down on the couch, and left it alone
with the mother and daughter. Alice wrung her hands in the bitterest
distress.

"Oh, he's dead, he's dead; he'll never speak to us any more."

"Mother, hush!" said Betty, softly; "he's not dead, I can see his lips
move and his breast heave. Maybe the Lord'll be merciful to us, and
spare him. O Father in heaven," she cried, throwing herself on her
knees, "do hear us, and spare poor fayther, for Jesus' sake."

The sufferer uttered a deep groan.

"Ay, ay, Betty," cried her mother, "the Lord be praised, there's life in
him yet. Run to old Jenny's, and ask her to come and help us. Her
master's all right; she'll be glad to give a helping hand to a neighbour
in trouble."

But there was no need to send for assistance, for in a minute after, the
cottage was filled with women, eager to use both hands and tongues in
the sufferer's service. They carried him to his bed, and gently removed
his clothes from him, though not without great difficulty, for he was
fearfully burnt; and the act of taking off his clothing caused him great
agony, as the skin came away with some of his inner garments. At last
he was made as comfortable as was possible under the circumstances, till
the doctor should come and dress his burns. Betty sat watching him,
while her mother and the other women gathered round the fire below, with
their pipes and their drink, trying to drown sorrow. She, poor girl,
knew where to seek a better consolation; she sought, and found it. At
last her mother's step was again on the stairs; she came up unsteadily,
and with flushed face approached the bed where her husband lay. She had
a mug of spirits in her hand.

"I'll give him a drop of this," she said thickly; "it'll put life into
him in no time."

"Oh, mother," cried Betty, "you mustn't do it; it's wrong, you'll be the
death of him."

But Alice would not heed her. She put some of the spirits in a spoon to
the poor sufferer's lips. She was astonished to find him perfectly
conscious, for he closed his mouth tightly, and shook his scarred face
from side to side.

"He won't have it, mother," said Betty, earnestly.

"Give me a drink of cold water," said the poor man in a low voice.
Betty fetched it him. "Ay, that's it; I want nothing stronger."

Alice slipped down again to her companions below, but her daughter
remained in the chamber.

It was a desolate room, as desolate as poverty and drink could m