Then at last our man mounted the box, and just at that moment (this is
an absolutely true story) it chanced that an errand-boy asked him the
way to Panton Street, and he got down from the box and walked quite a
little way with the boy to show him. And while he was away the engine
stopped. It was then that poor Mark performed one of the most heroic
feats of his life. He still sat still; but I seemed to see his hat
rising and falling, as did the lid of WATT's kettle on that historic
evening which led to so much railway trouble, from strikes and
sandwiches to _Bradshaw_. Still he said nothing. Nor did he speak
until the engine had been started again and we were really on our way
and thoroughly late. "If it had only been in normal times," he said
grimly, "how I should have let that man have it. But one simply
mustn't. It's terrible, but they've got us by the short hairs!"

No doubt of that.

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Mistress_ (_to maid who has asked for a rise_). "WHY,
MARY, I CANNOT POSSIBLY GIVE YOU AS MUCH AS THAT."

_Mary_. "WELL, MA'AM, YOU SEE, THE GENTLEMAN I WALK OUT WITH HAS JUST
GOT A JOB IN A MUNITION FACTORY, AND I SHALL BE OBLIGED TO DRESS UP TO
HIM."]

* * * * *

[Illustration: _Gretchen_. "WILL IT NEVER END? THINK OF OUR AWFUL
RESPONSIBILITY BEFORE HUMANITY."