of some pain but no surprise at such ingratitude. She warmed to this
husband who, if no hero in the matter of ferocious cabmen, could at
least champion her upon occasion.

Mary cried: "But I did not jump out! Indeed I did not, Mr. Chater; I
fell."

Mrs. Chater said _"Fell!"_ With sublime forbearance she added, "Never
mind; the incident is past."

"Mrs. Chater, you must know that I fell out. I was leaning out--you
had asked me to see the name of the street--when the horse stumbled."

"It is curious," said Mrs. Chater, with a pained little smile, "that
you managed to 'fall out' before the horse could recover and bolt."

"Very, very curious," Mr. Chater echoed.

How hateful they were, the girl felt. She broke out: "I--"

"Miss Humfray, that is enough. Help me upstairs. I will lie down."

Mr. Chater jumped brightly to the bell. "My dear, do; I will send you
a hot-water bottle."

His wife recalled the shortcomings for which she had been taking him
to task. "Send a fiddlestick," she rapped; "on a boiling day like
this!"

She took Mary's arm; leaning heavily, passed from the room.