“Because I am; and I told them at home with my very last breath that I was not a bit suited for coming out here, and mixing with strangers--nothing but strangers--and going perpetually into what is called ‘smart’ society, and beginning a perfectly novel kind of life. I shall get into no end of scrapes.” “May I ask your reason for this dismal prophecy?” “Surely you can guess! Because I cannot hold my tongue. I blurt out the first thing that comes into my head. If I think a thing wrong, or odd, I must say so; I cannot help it, I am incurable. People at home are used to me, and don’t mind. Also, I have a frightful and wholly unconscious habit of selecting the most uncomfortable topics, and an extremely bad memory for the names and faces of people with whom I have but a slight acquaintance; so you see that I am not likely to be a social success!” “Let us hope that you take a gloomy view of yourself. For instance, what is your idea of an uncomfortable topic?” “If I am talking to a person with a cast in the eye, I am positively certain ere long to find myself conversing volubly about squints; or, if my partner wears a wig, I am bound to bring wigs on the tapis. I believe I am possessed by some mischievous imp, who enjoys my subsequent torture.” “Pray how do you know that _I_ have not a squint, or a wig, or both? A wig would not be half a bad thing in this hot climate; to take off your hair as you do your hat would often be a great relief! Ah, here we are coming to the scene of the collision at last,” and presently they passed by a long row of waggons, and then two huge engines, one across the line, the other reared up against it; an immense bonfire burnt on the bank, and threw the great black monsters into strong outline. Further on they came to a gate and level crossing. The gate of the keeper’s hut stood wide open, and on the threshold a grey-haired old woman sat with her head between her knees, sobbing; within were moans, as if wrung from a sufferer in acute anguish. Honor’s unknown companion suddenly halted, and exclaimed impulsively-- “I’m afraid some one has been badly hurt; if you don’t mind, I’ll just go and see.” Almost ere she had nodded a quick affirmative, he had vaulted over the gate, and left her. CHAPTER XII. TWO GOOD SAMARITANS.