“Calm yourself,” said Mr. Tupman, affected almost to tears by this expression of sympathy with his sufferings. “Dear, dear madam, calm yourself.”

“It is his voice!” exclaimed the spinster aunt; and strong symptoms of fit number three developed themselves forthwith.

“Do not agitate yourself, I entreat you, dearest madam,” said Mr. Tupman soothingly. “I am very little hurt, I assure you.”

“Then you are not dead!” ejaculated the hysterical lady. “Oh, say you are not dead!”

“Don’t be a fool, Rachael,” interposed Mr. Wardle, rather more roughly than was consistent with the poetic nature of the scene. “What the devil’s the use of his saying he isn’t dead?”