DIALSTONE LANE

By W.W. Jacobs

Part IV.



CHAPTER XIV

Mrs. Chalk watched the schooner until it was a mere white speck on the
horizon, a faint idea that it might yet see the error of its ways and
return for her chaining her to the spot. Compelled at last to recognise
the inevitable, she rose from the turf on which she had been sitting and,
her face crimson with wrath, denounced husbands in general and her own in
particular.

"It's my husband's doing, I'm sure," said Mrs. Stobell, with a side
glance at her friend's attire, not entirely devoid of self-
congratulation. "That's why he wouldn't let me have a yachting costume.
I can see it now."

Mrs. Chalk turned and eyed her with angry disdain.

"And that's why he wouldn't let me bring more than one box," continued
Mrs. Stobell, with the air of one to whom all things had been suddenly
revealed; "and why he wouldn't shut the house up. Oh, just fancy what a
pickle I should have been in if I had! I must say it was thoughtful of
him."