But Ponty shook her head. "I should try and get soothed in some other way, if I was you, Master Reggie: say with a peppermint drop or an Albert biscuit. Why, there was once a man at Poppenhall when my father was a lad----" "I knew there was," I murmured. I felt that there was a judgment impending, and I would not have missed it for worlds. "Who smoked and smoked till his throat was all lined with soot, like a kitchen-chimney," continued Ponty; "and one day a spark went down his throat from his pipe and set fire to the soot, and he was burned to death in a few minutes. You see, the fire being inside him, no one could get at it to put it out." "How very shocking! But why didn't the soot choke him before he had time to get it on fire? I should have thought an accumulation of soot in the throat was a most unwholesome thing, apart from the danger of fire." "It was a judgment upon him, that's all I can say, and it isn't for us to dictate whether Providence shall punish evildoers by choking or by burning." "Certainly not," I replied. "I am the last person to take it upon myself to dictate to Providence." "But smoking or no smoking, it's a fair treat to see you and Miss Annabel at home again," said Ponty with a most gracious smile; "for when all's said and done the house don't seem like the house without you. For my part, I don't hold with so much gadding about; I never did; but you and Miss Annabel was always set on having your own way, and I doubt always will be." "Set on having Annabel's way, you mean," I amended. "Just so, Master Reggie; from the time you were a little boy Miss Annabel always made up your mind for you, and I doubt if she'll ever get out of the habit now. But it's a pity! For though I'm the last to say a word against Miss Annabel, me having nursed her ever since she was a month old, and the most beautiful baby you ever saw, with a complexion like wax, still she's a bit too wilful, and you and your poor papa always having given way to her has made her worse. It doesn't do to be too self-willed." "But I'm not," I pleaded. "No; more's the pity! It would be a sight better for Miss Annabel if you were. I don't hold with folks always getting their own way, especially women. I remember a well-to-do woman at Poppenhall when I was a girl who was that set on marrying a particular man as never was, and nothing else would do to content her. And they lived on at her house after they were married, her being a woman of means. He caught the fever from drinking the water out of her well, the well not having been cleaned out for years and most unhealthy, and died just a month after their wedding-day, which I hold was a judgment on her for being so set on marrying that particular man." "But any other man might have got the fever from the insanitary well," I suggested.