"Joe," said the old man, putting on his hat and blinking up at him
beneath its jaunty brim, "Joe, sometimes I fair despise ye!"

"Well, despise away," nodded Joe, "only get up--stand up on them
doddering old pins o' yourn."

"Not me!" declared the Old Un, "I ain't goin' to climb no more o' these
perishin' stairs--no, not for you nor nobody. 'Ere I am, me lad, an'
'ere I sits till you give me a piggy-back up to the top--me bein' a pore
old cove with rheumatiz. I demands it--"

"You'll what?" growled Joe, hard-breathing and indignant.

"Demand it, Joe--a pore old feller wi' kidneys--an' every other ailment
as flesh is hair to--a piggy-back, Joe--a piggy-back!"

Without another word Joe stooped, and lifting the old man beneath one
arm, bore him up the stairs regardless of his croaking protestations and
fierce invective.

"I said a piggy-back--oh, you blightin' perisher, I said a piggy-back,"
he snarled, his resplendent shoes twinkling in futile kicks. "Oh, Joe,
there's times when I fair 'ates ye!"

Thus, despite virulent curses and feeble kickings, Joe bore him on
and up until, as he climbed the last flight, he was arrested by an
exclamation from above, and glancing upward, beheld a tall,
sharp-featured woman who leaned over the rail.