Mr. Nicholas Crips was blonde, bony man perhaps five feet nine in height,
but looking taller because of the spareness of his limbs. This spareness
was not cultivated, as Nickie the Kid was partial to creature comforts,
but was of great assistance to him in a profession in which it was often
necessary to profess chronic sickness and touching physical decrepitude.
Mr Crips despised whiskers, but, as shaving was an extravagant
indulgence, his slightly cadaverous countenance was often littered with a
crisp, pale stubble, not unlike dry grass.

To-day Nickie wore a suit of black cloth. It had once been a very
imposing suit, and had adorned a great person, but having fallen on evil
days, was dusty and rusty, while the knees of Mr. Crips poked familiarly
through a long slit in each leg of the stained trousers. The frock coat
went badly with the damaged tan boots and the moth-eaten rag cap Nicholas
was wearing.

Mr. Crips was making back-door call, and telling housewives what the
doctors at the hospital had said about his peculiar ailment which, it
appears, was an interesting heart weakness.

"Above all, I must be careful never to over-exert myself, madam--those
are the doctor's orders," said Nickie, in his sad, calm way. "The
smallest excitement, the slightest strain, and my life goes out like
that." Nickie puffed an imaginary candle with dramatic significance.

This was the preliminary to a mild appeal for creature and medical
comforts, and it had two objects--to open the soul to compassion, and bar
all considerations of manual labour.

Our hero's manner with women was a gentle manly deference; his begging