med it all last night.'

'I said you must be ill,' returned Mark, tenderly, 'and now I'm sure of
it. A touch of fever and ague caught on these rivers, I dare say; but
bless you, THAT'S nothing. It's only a seasoning, and we must all be
seasoned, one way or another. That's religion that is, you know,' said
Mark.

He only sighed and shook his head.

'Wait half a minute,' said Mark cheerily, 'till I run up to one of our
neighbours and ask what's best to be took, and borrow a little of it to
give you; and to-morrow you'll find yourself as strong as ever again. I
won't be gone a minute. Don't give in while I'm away, whatever you do!'

Throwing down his hatchet, he sped away immediately, but stopped when he
had got a little distance, and looked back; then hurried on again.

'Now, Mr Tapley,' said Mark, giving himself a tremendous blow in the
chest by way of reviver, 'just you attend to what I've got to say.
Things is looking about as bad as they CAN look, young man. You'll not
have such another opportunity for showing your jolly disposition, my
fine fellow, as long as you live. And therefore, Tapley, Now's your time
to come out strong; or Never!'

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

REPORTS PROGRESS IN CERTAIN HOMELY MATTERS OF LOVE, HATRED, JEALOUSY,
AND REVENGE

'Hallo, Pecksniff!' cried Mr Jonas from the parlour. 'Isn't somebody
a-going to open that precious old door of yours?'

'Immediately, Mr Jonas. Immediately.'

'Ecod,' muttered the orphan, 'not before it's time neither. Whoever it
is, has knocked three times, and each one loud enough to wake the--' he
had such a repugnance to the idea of waking the Dead, that he stopped
even then with the words upon his tongue, and said, instead, 'the Seven
Sleepers.'

'Immediately, Mr Jonas; immediately,' repeated Pecksniff. 'Thomas
Pinch'--he couldn't make up his mind, in his great agitation, whether to
call Tom his dear friend or a villain, so he shook his fist at him
PRO TEM--'go up to my daughters' room, and tell them who is here. Say,
Silence. Silence! Do you hear me, sir?

'Directly, sir!' cried Tom, departing, in a state of much amazement, on
his errand.

'You'll--ha, ha, ha!--you'll excuse me, Mr Jonas, if I close this door
a moment, will you?' said Pecksniff. 'This may be a professional call.
Indeed I am pretty sure it is. Thank you.' Then Mr Pecksniff, gently
warbling a rustic stave, put on his garden hat, seized a spade, and
opened the street door; calmly appearin