"This 'as been somethin' of a fire, sir," exclaimed Bobsey, "and I'm burnt hout. Will you take me in as you promised?"
"Certainly," replied Dr. Slasher. "When I make a promise I keep it. You shall be my errand boy—take out the medicines and make yourself generally useful."
"Thank you doctor," said Bobsey, "I'm much hobliged, and shall be still more so if you'll help a frien' of mine."
"Who is he?"
"Stranger in this country. Was engaged by Mr. Floyd, but now he's hout of work 'cos of the fire. He'll 'ave to starve, and you wouldn't like to see him do that."
"Never in the wide," answered the good-natured doctor. "He shall attend to my surgery. I'll teach him to mix potions and roll pills."
"That's hall he wants," said Bobsey. "Can we go and pitch hour tents in the kitchen till morning, sir?"
"Go right in," said Dr. Slasher. "I'm about to go to bed myself. It's no use waiting up any longer. This is the most disappointing fire I ever witnessed. My professional skill has not once been called into requisition."
"Wild Charley's burnt hup, sir."
"Well, the young scamp deserved it, and I guess they won't put him to sweeping snow where he's gone to. Now you and your friend can sleep by the stove in the kitchen, but I shall want you up in the morning. You'll have to work, or I'll know the reason why."