always one for the men. And at last a very queer thing happened, and
gave him his chance.

'It was a very hot day in July, and she fell asleep on a seat under a
tree with her glass ball in her lap; she had been staring at it, I
suppose. Any way she slept on, till the sun went round and shone full on
the ball; and just as he, Mr. Jephson, that is, came into the gate, the
glass ball began to act like a burning glass and her skirt began to
smoke. Well, he waited a bit, I think, till the skirt blazed a little,
and then he rushed up and threw his coat over her skirt, and put the fire
out. And so he saved her from being a Molochaust, like you read about in
the bible.'

Merton mentally disengaged the word 'Molochaust' into 'Moloch' and
'holocaust.'

'And there she was, when I happened to come by, a-crying and carrying on,
with her head on his shoulder.'

'A pleasing group, and so they were engaged on the spot?' asked Merton.

'Not she! She held off, and thanked her preserver; but she would be
true, she said, to her lover in cocky. But before that Mr. Jephson had
taken me into his confidence.'

'And you made no objection to his winning your ward, if he could?'

'No, sir, I could trust that young man: I could trust him with Barbara.'

'His arguments,' said Merton, 'must have been very cogent?'