Mrs. Jones was a widow, and poor. She lived full a quarter of a mile
away. So in deciding to make the visit that night, I hardly think a
very strong element of self-interest was included in the motives
that governed me. But that is irrelevant.

"As there is no prospect of an abatement in the storm," said I,
after returning to our cosy little sitting-room, "it may be as well
for me to see the baby at once. The visit will be over, so far as I
am concerned, and precious time may be gained for the patient."

"I will tell Joseph to bring around the horse," said my wife.

"No--I will walk. Poor beast! He has done enough for one day, and
shall not be taken out again."

"Horse-flesh is not so precious as man-flesh," Constance smiled
entreatingly, as she laid her hand upon my shoulder. "Let Tom be
harnessed up; it won't hurt him."

"The merciful man is merciful to his beast," I made answer. "If
horse-flesh is cheaper than man-flesh, like most cheap articles, it
is less enduring. Tom must rest, if his master cannot."

"The decision is final, I suppose."

"I must say yes."

"I hardly think your great coat is dry yet," said my wife. "I had it
hung before the kitchen fire. Let me see."