"Asleep in the garden, I put her down under the tree when I heard Susy cry out."
"Then go and fetch her this minute. And a fine hiding you'll get when Fowley comes home. Susy's his favourite out of 'em all."
Dick looked appealingly at the neighbours and muttered, "I—I can't carry her—my hands——"
"Bless me, there's work for the doctor here," said one of the women in consternation, as she looked at his poor scorched fingers.
"Depend upon 't, Mrs. Fowley, he's saved your Susy's life. Best not talk about hidings."
"What's the matter here?" cried a brisk voice at the door, as the old doctor entered. He had been visiting in the next street, and was fortunately met by the messenger.
"Burns. Ah! the old story—open fires and no guard. When will you women learn wisdom?"
Mrs. Fowley shrank from his stern look, and whined, "How can the likes of we afford guards, I should like to know?"
"Afford?" he echoed sharply, as he turned from his examination of Susy's hurts. "You women spend enough at the 'Blue Dragon' every week to put a guard at every fire-place, to say nothing of what the men spend. If you hadn't been drinking together, and neglecting home, this wouldn't have happened. I can smell the gin here and now!"
The old doctor was noted for his plain speaking, but with all his sternness to wrong doing, he was very tender-hearted, and nothing could have been more gentle than his touch on Susy's arm.