"Shall I come in and 'elp you get 'im to bed?" ses Dicky Weed, 'arf
crying.

"No, thank you, Mr. Weed," ses Mrs. Pretty. "It's very kind of you to
offer, but 'e wouldn't like any hands but mine to touch 'im. I'll send
in and let you know 'ow he is fust thing in the morning."

"Try and get 'old of the coat, Dicky," ses Bill Chambers, in a whisper.
"Offer to mend it for 'im. It's sure to want it."

"Well, I'm sorry I can't be no 'elp to you," ses Dicky Weed, "but I
noticed a rent in Bob's coat and, as 'e's likely to be laid up a bit, it
ud be a good opportunity for me to mend it for 'im. I won't charge 'im
nothing. If you drop it down I'll do it now."

"Thankee," ses Mrs. Pretty; "if you just wait a moment I'll clear the
pockets out and drop it down to you."

She turned back into the bedroom, and Dicky Weed ground 'is teeth
together and told Bill Chambers that the next time he took 'is advice
he'd remember it. He stood there trembling all over with temper, and
when Mrs. Pretty came to the winder agin and dropped the coat on his 'ead
and said that Bob felt his kindness very much, and he 'oped Dicky ud make
a good job of it, because it was 'is favrite coat, he couldn't speak.
He stood there shaking all over till Mrs. Pretty 'ad shut the winder down
agin, and then 'e turned to the conjurer, as 'ad come up with the rest of
us, and asked 'im wot he was going to do about it now.

"I tell you he's got the watch," ses the conjurer, pointing up at the
winder. "It went into 'is pocket. I saw it go. He was no more shot