hors de combat. In fact, I’ve had to send them to the Nursing Home."
“Good heavens! what’s the matter?'
"It's something like ptomaine poisoning, I should think: you’ve not suffered yourself, I can see, or you wouldn't be walking about. I think they’ll pull through all right."
"Dear, dear! Have you any idea what brought it on?"
“Well, they tell me they bought some shell-fish from a hawker at their dinner-time. It’s odd. I've made inquiries, but I can’t find that any hawker has been to other houses in the street. I couldn’t send word to you; they won't be back for a bit yet. You come and dine with me to-night, anyhow, and we can make arrangements for going on. Eight o’clock. Don't be too anxious.”
The solitary evening was thus obviated; at the expense of some distress and inconvenience, it is true. Mr. Dunning spent the time pleasantly enough with the doctor (a rather recent settler), and returned to his lonely home at about 11.30. The night he passed is not one on which he
