He took the glass and tied on a white apron. "If our friend doesn't
drink this, I will," he continued. "If he'd seen it in the making,
as I have, he'd be crazy about it."

He opened the door and stood listening. From below floated up the
refrain:

_I--love you o--own--ly,
I love--but--you._

"Listen to that!" he said. "Stomach's gone, but still has a heart!"

Higgins came up the stairs heavily and stopped close by the
red-haired person, whispering something to him. There was a second's
pause. Then the red-haired person gave the eggnog to Higgins and
both disappeared.

Jane was puzzled. She rather thought the furnace man had got out and
listened for a scuffle, but none came. She did, however, hear the
singing cease below, and then commence with renewed vigour, and she
heard Higgins slowly remounting the stairs. He came in, with the
empty glass and a sheepish expression. Part of the eggnog was
distributed over his person.

"He wants his nurse, ma'am," said Higgins. "Wouldn't let me near
him. Flung a pillow at me."

"Where is the doctor?" demanded Jane.

"Busy," replied Higgins. "One of the women is sick."