"I saw a pair of horses running away with a heavy wagon the other day,"
she told us once. "It was in Cross Street, and there was a child in the
way--there always is a child in the way!--and, as there was no one else
to do it, I ran into the road to remove that child. I had to pull it
aside quickly, and there was no time to say 'Allow me'--in fact, there
was no time for anything--and in my hurry I lost my balance and fell in
the mud, and the wagon came tearing over me. It was an unpleasant
sensation, but I wasn't hurt, you know; neither the wheels nor the
horses touched me. I got very dirty, though, and I have no doubt I
looked as ridiculous as I felt, and for that I expected to be tenderly
dealt with; but when I went to ask after the child, a few days later, a
neighbour told me that its mother was out, and it was a good thing too,
as she had been heard to declare she would 'go for that lady the next
time she saw her, for flingin' of her bairn about!'"

When she had told the story, Ideala was horrified to find that the
fact, which she had overlooked, of her having risked her life to save
the child struck us all much more forcibly than the ingratitude that
amused her.

Although her sense of humour was keen, it was not always, as I said
before, the humorous side of a subject that struck her. I found her one
day looking utterly miserable.

"What has happened?" I asked. "You look sad."

"And I feel sad," she answered. "I was just thinking what a pity it is
those gay, pleasure-loving, flower-clad people of Hawaii are dying
out!"