They had only a few shillings. At the other
side, where the glass was up, raw unshaved faces
were pressed against it, looking in. There was
much merriment and great curiosity abroad as
to the result of this pleasant scene.

"Do you suppose," the Siberian added, with a
loud bang on the door that made the whole cab
clatter, " do you suppose that you're to go about
all day a killin' 'orses on honest men, with a drive
here, and a drive there, and then not pay for your
whistle? I tell you wot—"

"We are ladies; indeed we are. Here is our
address, and Captain Fermor—"

The Siberian laughed. " I want no captings.
I wants my money, and I wants my 'orse. And
I tell yon, you don't go till I gets one or the
other. Ain't it a shame," he added, turning to
the crowd, "for people as dresses as ladies,
and—-"

In utter despair, young Mrs. Fermor had been
looking across the wild faces, and beyond the
wild faces. Suddenly, she saw a tall gentleman
—a European, as it were, among the Indians—
picking a way round the outskirts of the crowd.
In an instant she had called to him. " O, sir,
sir! Do come here! Help us! do, please."

The tall gentleman stopped a second, Iistened ,
then shrugged his shoulders, and was passing on.
That stopping showed Mrs. Fermor his face, and
the "gauntly handsome" face and the trailing
moustache.

"O, Mr. Romaine," she said, in a lower voice.
Do come to me!"

Slowly Mr. Romaine swung his way through
them. The crowd was knocked aside heavily, as
though his elbows had been the comers of
massive furniture. He was at the window in a
moment, confronting the Siberian, on whom he
looked down a head taller.

Young Mrs. Fermor, in some confusion, was
beginning her story, when he stopped her.
"Afterwards, if you like," he said. (Cab, cabman,
and horse, in fact, narrated the whole thing
much more shortly.) "Now you had better
get out." He took hold of the handle of the
door.

"Come, now. I say—-" said the Siberian.

Mr. Romaine let it go at once. " Well, open
it yourself, said he. "It will save my gloves.
And look sharp."

The Siberian was a little staggered. "And
who's to pay for the 'os and the damage? This
won't do, I say," he said, coming in front of the
door.

"Stand back, please," said Mr. Romaine,
gently, at the same time calmly pressing his elbow
on him. It was bike the corner of a chest of
drawers. "There—thank you! That will do.
You should keep these handles a little freer—
oil is not so dear. Take care," he said, in a low
warning voice, to him. " You will get into mischief
by interfering with me. Stand away! I
once killed an Indian with a blow of this fist. I
did; on my word. There's my card; I have got
yours. I shall recollect the number. Here, my
friend" (to a smart ostler-looking man), "get
this horse on his legs again. He is only shaken.
There" (and he put something into the ostler's
hands). " And you help too" (to a parcels boy,
whose hand he also visited). " Here" (to the
Siberian), "go to the next public with that.
Wine makes the heart of man glad—or spirits.
Now, Mrs. Fermor, take my arm. I know a
short cut out of this place."

He led her away without further protest or
obstruction. He was indeed a hero—a quiet,
calm, grand hero. With so slight an exertion of
power, what might he not accomplish if the occasion
required! Women always overflow with
gratitude to preservers of this sort even to those
who have saved them from a driver.

Civilised Europe was only a street away after
all. Better still, here was a stand of cabs. Then
Mrs. Fermor recovered herself, and began to
discourse in coherent gratitude.

"Good gracious!" said he, "it is nothing. I
heard a lady calling from a cab-window, and I
came. Do what we will, we can't make a
romance out of it. Now, here is a cab. I suppose
I can go now?"

"O, thank you!" said young Mrs. Fermor,
still overflowing with gratitude. " I don't know
what to say, I am sure; how to thank you for
such a service, knowing you so little, too."

"As for that," said he, " I may, without rudeness,
relieve your mind. If it had been a washer-woman
in her cart, whom I had never seen in my
life, I should have done the same. It is really
nothing," he said, smiling. "You make too
much of it. Here is a cab. Could you spare me
now? I really have an appointment."

"0, I am sure," said young Mrs. Fermor, "if
we could leave you anywhere, I am sure—-"

"I assure you I like to walk, unless," he added,
smiling a little contemptuously, " you still think
yourself in danger. I assure you this driver looks
moral and respectable. Don't be afraid."

A little mortified, she got in, and she saw Mr.
Romaine hurry away, apparently glad to be free.
The maid pronounced him " a short" gentleman
—that is, as regards manner.

Fermor was a long time out, and came home
late—with the drum hoisted, as it were. She was
not skilled in reading those meteorological
signals, and flew at him eagerly with a full
narrative of her adventures. It was such an
escape—such a rescue—and such, a rescuer.
But Fermor was chafing. He had called twice
at a House, and had not been admitted, though
he had seen a bishop's carriage drive up, and
finely turned ebony limbs go down its steps,
and up other steps into the House. It was an
insult, and not a mistake.

Young Mrs. Fermor's eyes were sparkling as
she dwelt on the details of her story. "And
would you believe it, Charles, he no more
seemed to mind what he had done, than if he
had walked across this room."

"Well, I take it all for granted," said her
husband, getting up suddenly. " I have heard it