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His mother gasped. Whatever was coming over the boy, she wondered. Never before had she been able to get a dose of medicine down him without a struggle. There could be only one answer. He was sick—sicker than he let on. "I am thankful to hear you speak of dancing. If ever your clothes should become rags and flutter to the measures of your feet, your beauty will still make them a finer garment, at least in my sight, than the apparel of royalty in state. But you shall not want for clothes," he said, speaking in his gentlest voice, which, as he held command over fine vocal powers that rendered him at the piano, or at any other instrument, a sweet and engaging and manly singer, would have been found soothing by any ear that had not Lucy Acton's to hear with. "Your dress will last you till our arrival, and then you shall have plenty; whatever your choice selects you may already call your own." This was said by Lady Larmont, the widow[Pg 158] of an East India Director, who had achieved a reputation for beneficence in the district without spending very much money..

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"What dye you want, boy?" Shipley's pipe was alight now and he peered down at Billy through the pungent smoke-wreaths. Billy glanced at him quickly, a troubled look in his eyes. "N-no," he said, "you bet I don't." "Mary," he said, "what is it? What have I done?" Keeler paused, and sighed deeply. "'Course, sir, you've heerd what happened an' how? He was tryin' to save some horses from a burnin' stable. A blazin' beam fell across his face; his eyes they—" Keeler's voice grew husky..