“You told mine,” retorted Mr. Jobling, “and nobody asked you to do that. Very free you was in coming out with mine.” “I ain’t the only one that’s free,” breathed the quivering Mrs. Jobling. “I ’ope your ankle is better?” she added, turning to the visitor. “Much better, thank you,” was the reply. “Got far to go?” queried Mrs. Jobling. The girl nodded. “But I shall take a tram at the end of the street,” she said, rising. Mr. Jobling rose too, and all that he had ever heard or read about etiquette came crowding into his mind. A weekly journal patronized by his wife had three columns regularly, but he taxed his memory in vain for any instructions concerning brown-eyed strangers with sprained ankles. He felt that the path of duty led to the tram-lines. In a somewhat blundering fashion he proffered his services; the girl accepted them as a matter of course. Mrs. Jobling, with lips tightly compressed, watched them from the door. The girl, limping slightly, walked along with the utmost composure, but the bearing of her escort betokened a mind fully conscious of the scrutiny of the street. He returned in about half an hour, and having this time to run the gauntlet of the street alone, entered with a mien which caused his wife’s complaints to remain unspoken. The cough of Mr. Brown, a particularly contagious one, still rang in his ears, and he sat for some time in fierce silence. “I see her on the tram,” he said, at last “Her name’s Robinson—Miss Robinson.” “In-deed!” said his wife. “Seems a nice sort o’ girl,” said Mr. Jobling, carelessly. “She’s took quite a fancy to you.” “I’m sure I’m much obliged to her,” retorted his wife. [Illustration: “He astonished Mrs. Jobling next day by the gift of a geranium.”] “So I—so I asked her to give you a look in now and then,” continued Mr. Jobling, filling his pipe with great care, “and she said she would. It’ll cheer you up a bit.” Mrs. Jobling bit her lip and, although she had never felt more fluent in her life, said nothing. Her husband lit his pipe, and after a rapid glance in her direction took up an old newspaper and began to read. He astonished Mrs. Jobling next day by the gift of a geranium in full bloom. Surprise impeded her utterance, but she thanked him at last with some warmth, and after a little deliberation decided to put it in the bedroom. Mr. Jobling looked like a man who has suddenly discovered a flaw in his calculations. “I was thinking of the front parlor winder,” he said, at last. “It’ll get more sun upstairs,” said his wife. She took the pot in her arms, and disappeared. Her surprise when she came down again and found Mr. Jobling rearranging the furniture, and even adding a choice ornament or two from the kitchen, was too elaborate to escape his notice. “Been going to do it for some time,” he remarked. Mrs. Jobling left the room and strove with herself in the scullery. She came back pale of face and with a gleam in her eye which her husband was too busy to notice.