I thought of that urchin's scared, shrieking face now, as the rubicund man leant quickly back into his corner. Yet that was not all, for the infant, satisfied, perhaps, with its victim's ignominy, turned and looked at me with a cynical smile. I was, as it were, taken into its confidence. I felt flattered, undeservedly yet enormously flattered. I blushed, I may have simpered. The train drew up in Great Hittenden station. The woman gathered her priceless possession carefully into her arms, and the rubicund man adroitly opened the door for her. "Good day, sir," she said, as she got out. "Good day," echoed the rubicund man with relief, and we all drew a deep breath of relief with him in concert, as though we had just witnessed the safe descent of some over-daring aviator. IV As the train moved on, we six, who had been fellow-passengers for some thirty or forty minutes before the woman had entered our compartment, we who had not till then exchanged a word, broke suddenly into general conversation. "Water on the brain; I don't care what any one says," asserted the rubicund man. "My sister had one very similar", put in the failure, who was sitting next to me. "It died," he added, by way of giving point to his instance. "Ought not to exhibit freaks like that in public," said an old man opposite to me. "You're right, sir," was the verdict of the artisan, and he spat carefully and scraped his boot on the floor; "them things ought to be kep' private." "Mad, of course, that's to say imbecile", repeated the rubicund man. "Horrid head he'd got," said the failure, and shivered histrionically. They continued to demonstrate their contempt for the infant by many asseverations. The reaction grew. They were all bold now and all wanted to speak. They spoke as the survivors from some common peril; they were increasingly anxious to demonstrate that they had never suffered intimidation and in their relief they were anxious to laugh at the thing which had for a time subdued them. But they never named it as a cause for fear. Their speech was merely innuendo. At the last, however, I caught an echo of the true feeling. It was the rubicund man, who, most daring during the crisis was now bold enough to admit curiosity. "What's your opinion, sir?" he said to me. The train was running into Wenderby; he was preparing to get out; and he leaned forward, his fingers on the handle of the door. I was embarrassed. Why had I been singled out by the child? I had taken no part in the recent interjectory conversation. Was this a consequence of the notice that had been paid to me? "I?" I stammered and then reverted to the rubicund man's original phrase, "It--it was certainly a very remarkable child," I said. The rubicund man nodded and pursed his lips. "Very," he muttered as he alighted, "Very remarkable. Well, good day to you."