ndeed; for there was too
much to be done in them for any note of time.

Headley and Campbell, Grace and old Willis, and last, but not least, Tom
Thurnall,--these and three or four brave women, organised themselves
into a right-gallant and well-disciplined band, and commenced at once a
visitation from house to house, saving thereby, doubtless, many a life:
but ere eight-and-forty hours were passed, the house visitation
languished. It was as much as they could do to attend to the acute
cases.

And little Scoutbush? He could not nurse, nor doctor: but what he could,
he did. He bought, and fetched all that money could procure. He galloped
over to the justices, and obtained such summary powers as he could; and
then, like a true Irishman, exceeded them recklessly, breaking into
premises right and left, in an utterly burglarious fashion; he organised
his fatigue-party, as he called them, of scavengers, and paid the
cowardly clods five shillings a day each to work at removing all
removable nuisances; he walked up and down the streets for hours, giving
the sailors cigars from his own case, just to show them that he was not
afraid, and therefore they need not be: and if it was somewhat his fault
that the horse was stolen, he at least did his best after the event to
shut the stable-door. The five real workers toiled on, meanwhile, in
perfect harmony and implicit obedience to the all-knowing Tom, but with
the most different inward feelings. Four of them seemed to forget death
and danger; but each remembered them in his own fashion.

Major Campbell longed to die, and courted death. Frank believed that he
should die, and was ready for death. Grace longed to die, but knew that
she should not die till she had found Tom's belt, and was content to
wait. Willis was of opinion that an "old man must die some day, and
somehow,--as good one way as another;" and all his concern was to run
about after his maid, seeing that she did not tire herself, and obeying
all her orders with sailor-like precision and cleverness.

And Tom? He just thought nothing about death and danger at-all. Always
smiling, always cheerful, always busy, yet never in a hurry, he went up
and down, seemingly ubiquitous. Sleep he got when he could, and food as
often as he could; into the sea he leapt, morning and night, and came
out fresher every time; the only person in the town who seemed to grow
healthier, and actually happier, as the work went on.

"You really must b