“But I am also to see Mrs Willis, and ask how she is.”
“Walk in, then, an’ wipe your feet. We ain’t got a door-mat to-day. It’s a-comin’, like Christmas; but you may use the boards in the meantime.”
The footman turned out to be a pleasant, gossipy man, and soon won the hearts of old Mrs Willis and her young guardian. He had been sent, he said, by a Dr McTougall with a parcel containing wine, tea, sugar, rice, and a few other articles of food, and with a message that the doctor would call and see Mrs Willis that afternoon.
“Deary me, that’s very kind,” said the old woman; “but I wonder why he sent such things to me, and who told him I was in want of ’em?”
“It was a young gentleman who rescued most of the doctor’s family from a fire last night. His name, I believe, is Mellon—”
“Wot! Doctor John Mellon?” exclaimed Slidder, with widening eyes.
“Whether he’s John or doctor I cannot tell. All I know is that he’s Mister Mellon, and he’s bin rather knocked up by— But, bless me, I forgot: I was to say nothing about the—the fire till Dr McTougall had seen you. How stoopid of me; but things will slip out!”
He stopped abruptly, and placed his brown paper parcel on the bed.
“Now, I say, look here, Mister Six-foot or wotever’s your name,” said Slidder, with intense eagerness. “It’s of no use your tyin’ up the mouth o’ the bag now. The cat’s got out an’ can’t be got in again by no manner o’ means. Just make a clean breast of it, an’ tell it all out like a man,—there’s a good feller! If you don’t, I’ll tell Dr McTougall that you gave me an’ the old lady a full, true, an’ partikler account o’ the whole affair, from the fust bustin’ out o’ the flames, an’ the calling o’ the ingines, to the last crash o’ the fallin’ roof, and the roastin’ alive of the ’ousehold cat. I will, as sure as you’re a six-foot flunkey!”
Thus adjured and threatened, the gossipy footman made a clean breast of it. He told them how that I had acted like a hero at the fire, and then, after giving, in minute detail, an account of all that the reader already knows, he went on to say that the whole family, except Dr McTougall, was laid up with colds; that the governess was in a high fever; that the maid-servants, having been rescued on the shoulders of firemen from the attics, were completely broken down in their nerves; and that I had received an injury to my right leg, which, although I had said nothing about it on the night of the fire, had become so much worse in the morning that I could scarcely walk across the room. In these circumstances, he added, Dr McTougall had agreed to visit my poor people for me until I should recover.