"So much the happier for me," laughed Waring.--"Take the front seat, Jeffers.--Now, Nin Nin, _ma fleurette_, up with you!" And the delighted child was lifted to her perch in the stylish trap she had so often admired. "Now, madame," he continued, extending his hand. But Madame hung back, hesitant and blushing. "Oh, Monsieur Wareeng, I cannot, I must not. Is it not that some one shall extricate the cab?" "No one from this party, at least," laughed Waring, mischievously making the most of her idiomatic query. "Your driver is more _cochon_ than _cocher_, and if he drowns in that mud 'twill only serve him right. Like your famous compatriot, he'll have a chance to say, 'I will drown, and no one shall help me,' for all I care. The brute! _Allons!_ I will drive you to _bonne maman's_ of whom it is the _fete_. Bless that baby daughter! And Madame d'Hervilly shall bless Nin Nin's _tout devoue_ Sam." And Madame Lascelles found further remonstrance useless. She was lifted into the seat, by which time the driver, drunken and truculent, had waded after them. "Who's to pay for this?" was his surly question. "You, I fancy, as soon as your employer learns of your driving into that hole," was Waring's cool reply. "Well, by God, I want five dollars for my fare and trouble, and I want it right off." And, whip in hand, the burly, mud-covered fellow came lurching up the bank. Across the boggy street beyond the white picket fence the green blinds of a chamber window in an old-fashioned Southern house were thrown open, and two feminine faces peered forth, interested spectators of the scene. "Here, my man!" said Waring, in low tone, "you have earned no five dollars, and you know it. Get your cab out, come to Madame d'Hervilly's, where you were called, and whatever is your due will be paid you; but no more of this swearing or threatening,--not another word of it." "I want my money, I say, and I mean to have it. I'm not talking to you; I'm talking to the lady that hired me." "But I have not the money. It is for my mother--Madame d'Hervilly--to pay. You will come there." "I want it now, I say. I've got to hire teams to get my cab out. I got stalled here carrying you and your child, and I mean to have my pay right now, or I'll know the reason why. Your swell friend's got the money. It's none of my business how you pay him." But that ended the colloquy. Waring's fist landed with resounding whack under the cabman's jaw, and sent him rolling down into the mud below. He was up, floundering and furious, in less than a minute, cursing horribly and groping in the pocket of his overcoat. "It's a pistol, lieutenant. Look out!" cried Jeffers.