been borne up
to his bed.

"Yes, it is.--Oh, dear," sighed Eliza. "Poor dear! Only to think of it
and him only as you may say yesterday alive and well."

"Ay, and so it is, and so it always will be," said Bruff, who was
standing by the kitchen-door turning some ale round and round in the
bottom of a mug.

"Ah!" sighed Martha.

"Ah, indeed!" sighed Eliza.

"And me so ready to make a fuss about the poor dear because he'd made a
litter sometimes with his ingenuous proceedings."

"And me too," sighed Eliza, "and ready to bite my very tongue off now
for saying the things I did."

"Yes, as Mr Syme says, we're a many of us in black darkness," muttered
Bruff. "Why, that there hot-water apparatus is a boon and a blessin' to
men, as the song says."

"About the pens?" added Eliza.

"You can most see the things grow."

"Ah," sighed Martha.

"He weer as reight as reight. It was all them turning off the
scape-yokes."

"And Missus forgetting to tell Martha about not lighting the fire."

"And if he'd only get well again," sobbed Martha, wiping her eyes, "the
biler might be busted once a week, and not a word would I say."

"No," sighed Bruff giving his ale another twist round and slowly pouring
it down his throat. "There's a rose tree in the garden as he budded
hisself, though I always pretended it was one of my doing, and sorry I
am now."

"Ah," sighed Martha, "we all repents when it's too late."

Pop!

A cinder flew out of the fire on to the strip of carpet lying across the
hearth, and a pungent odour of burning wool arose. But Bruff stooped
down and using his hardened fingers as tongs, picked up the cinder and
tossed it inside the fender.

Martha started as the cinder flew out and looked aghast at Eliza, her
ruddy face growing mottled, while the housemaid's cheeks were waxen as
the maids gave themselves up to the silly superstition that, like many
more, does not die hard but absolutely refuses to die at all.

"Oh, my poor dear!" cried Martha, sobbing aloud, while Eliza buried her
face in her apron, and the reason thereof suddenly began to dawn upon
Bruff, who turned to the fireplace again, stooped down and carefully
picked up the exploded bubble of coke and gas, turned it over two or
three times, and then by a happy inspiration giving it a shake and
producing a tiny tinkling noise.

Bruff's face expanded into a grin.

"Why, it aren't," he cried holding out the cinder; "it's a puss o'
money."

"No