hours of preaching or cross examination.

She renewed it when the two carriages stopped, half into
Florence.

"Mr. Eager!" called Mr. Beebe. "We want your assistance. Will you
interpret for us?"

"George!" cried Mr. Emerson. "Ask your driver which way George
went. The boy may lose his way. He may be killed."

"Go, Mr. Eager," said Miss Bartlett. don't ask our driver; our
driver is no help. Go and support poor Mr. Beebe--, he is nearly
demented."

"He may be killed!" cried the old man. "He may be killed!"

"Typical behaviour," said the chaplain, as he quitted the
carriage. "In the presence of reality that kind of person
invariably breaks down."

"What does he know?" whispered Lucy as soon as they were alone.
"Charlotte, how much does Mr. Eager know?"

"Nothing, dearest; he knows nothing. But--" she pointed at the
driver-"HE knows everything. Dearest, had we better? Shall I?"
She took out her purse. "It is dreadful to be entangled with
low-class people. He saw it all." Tapping Phaethon's back with her
guide-book, she said, "Silenzio!" and offered him a franc.