"Ah, pore dear," said a voice.
Mr. Wilks opened his eyes sharply and beheld the meagre figure of Mrs.
Silk. In one hand she held a medicine-bottle and a glass and in the
other paper and firewood.
[Illustration: "The meagre figure of Mrs. Silk."]
"I only 'eard of it half an hour ago," she said, reproachfully. "I saw
the doctor's boy, and I left my work and came over at once. Why didn't
you let me know?"
Mr. Wilks muttered that he didn't know, and lay crossly regarding his
attentive neighbour as she knelt down and daintily lit the fire. This
task finished, she proceeded to make the room tidy, and then set about
making beef-tea in a little saucepan.
"You lay still and get well," she remarked, with tender playfulness.
"That's all you've got to do. Me and Teddy'll look after you."
"I couldn't think of troubling you," said the steward, earnestly.
"It's no trouble," was the reply. "You don't think I'd leave you here
alone helpless, do you?"
"I was going to send for old Mrs. Jackson if I didn't get well to-day,"
said Mr. Wilks.
Mrs. Silk shook her head at him, and, after punching up his pillow, took
an easy chair by the fire and sat there musing. Mr. Edward Silk came in
to tea, and, after remarking that Mr. Wilks was very flushed and had got
a nasty look about the eyes and a cough which he didn't like, fell to
discoursing on death-beds.
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