At last the train arrived. Bruce had settled his companion with her back to the engine in a corner of a first-class carriage, and placed her rugs in the rack above. As they will on certain days, every little thing went wrong, and the bundle promptly fell off. As she moved to catch it, it tumbled on to her hat, nearly crushing the crown. Unconsciously assuming the expression of a Christian martyr, Madame Frabelle said it didn't matter. Bruce had given her _The Gentlewoman_, _The World_, _The Field_, _Punch_, and _The London Mail_ to occupy the twenty-five minutes or so while they waited for the train to start. The journey itself was much shorter than this interval. Knowing her varied interests, he felt sure that these journals would pretty well cover the ground, but he was rather surprised, as he took the seat opposite her, to see that she read first, in fact instantly started, with apparent interest, on _The London Mail_. With a quick glance he saw that she was enjoying 'What Everybody Wants to Know'--'Why the Earl of Blank looked so surprised when he met the pretty little blonde lady who had been said to be the friend of his wife walking in Bond Street with a certain dark gentleman who until now he had always understood to be her _bete noire_,' and so forth. As an example to her he took up _The New Statist_ and read a serious article. When they arrived it was fine and sunny, and they looked at once for a boat. It had not occurred to him before that there would be any difficulty in getting one. He imagined a smart new boat all ready for him, with fresh, gay cushions, and everything complete and suitable to himself and his companion. He was rather irritated when he found instead that the best they could do for him was to give him a broken-down, battered-looking thing like an old chest, which was to be charged rather heavily for the time they meant to spend on the river. It looked far from safe, but it was all they could do. So they got in. Bruce meant to show his powers as an oarsman. He said Madame Frabelle must steer and asked her to trim the boat. In obedience to his order she sat down with a bang, so heavily that Bruce was nearly shot up into the air. Amiable as she always was, and respectfully devoted as Bruce was to her, he found that being on the river has a mysterious power of bringing out any defects of temper that people have concealed when on dry ground. He said to her: 'Don't do that again. Do you mind?' as politely as he could. She looked up, surprised. 'I beg your pardon, Mr Ottley?' 'Don't do that again.' 'Don't do what? What did I do?' 'Why, I asked you to trim the boat.' 'What did I do? I merely sat down.' He didn't like to say that she shouldn't sit down with a bump, and took his place. 'If you like,' she said graciously, 'I'll relieve you there, presently.' 'How do you mean--relieve me?' 'I mean I'll row--I'll sit in the stern--row!'