Musing on Mr. Spicer's bad luck--for it seemed as if he had changed from
the back to the front room just in order that the chimney might fall on
him--Goldthorpe hastened away to the hospital. He could not be admitted
to-day, but heard that his friend was doing very well; on the morrow he
would be allowed to see him.

So at the visitors' hour Goldthorpe returned. Entering the long accident
ward, he searched anxiously for the familiar face, and caught sight of it
just as it began to beam recognition. Mr. Spicer was sitting up in bed; he
looked pale and meagre, but not seriously ill; his voice quivered with
delight as he greeted the young man.

'I heard of your inquiring for me yesterday, Mr. Goldthorpe, and I've
hardly been able to live for impatience to see you. How are you, sir? How
are you? And what news about the _work_, sir?'

'We'll talk about that presently, Mr. Spicer. Tell me all about your
accident. How came you to be in the front room?'

'Ah, sir,' replied the patient, with a little shake of the head, 'that
indeed was singular. Only a few days before, I had made a removal from my
room into yours. I call it yours, sir, for I always thought of it as yours;
but thank heaven you were not there. Only a few days before. I took that
step, Mr. Goldthorpe, for two reasons: first, because water was coming
through the roof at the back in rather unpleasant quantities, and secondly,
because I hoped to get a little morning sun in the front. The fact is, sir,
my room had been just a little depressing. Ah, Mr. Goldthorpe, if you knew
how I have missed you, sir! But the _work_--what news of the _work_?'