my sense of her
unreasonableness by sweeping the whole meal into the grate, after which
Ethelbertha suddenly developed exuberant affection for the cat (who
didn't want anybody's love, but wanted to get under the grate after the
lunch), and I became supernaturally absorbed in the
day-before-yesterday's newspaper.

"In the afternoon, strolling out into the garden, I heard the faint cry
of a female in distress. I listened attentively, and the cry was
repeated. I thought it sounded like Amenda's voice, but where it came
from I could not conceive. It drew nearer, however, as I approached the
bottom of the garden, and at last I located it in a small wooden shed,
used by the proprietor of the house as a dark-room for developing
photographs.

"The door was locked. 'Is that you, Amenda?' I cried through the
keyhole.

"'Yes, sir,' came back the muffled answer. 'Will you please let me out?
you'll find the key on the ground near the door.'

"I discovered it on the grass about a yard away, and released her. 'Who
locked you in?' I asked.

"'I did, sir,' she replied; 'I locked myself in, and pushed the key out
under the door. I had to do it, or I should have gone off with those
beastly soldiers.'

"'I hope I haven't inconvenienced you, sir,' she added, stepping out; 'I
left the lunch all laid.'"

* * * * *

Amenda's passion for soldiers was her one tribute to sentiment. Towards
all others of the male sex she maintained an attitude of callous
unsusceptibility, and her engagements with them (which were numerous)
were entered into or abandoned on grounds so sordid as to seriously shock
Ethelbertha.

When she came to us she was engaged to a pork butcher--with a milkman in
reserve. For Amenda's sake we dealt with the man, but we never liked
him, and we liked his pork still less. When, therefore, Amenda announced
to us that her engagement with him was "off," and intimated that her
feelings would in no way suffer by our going elsewhere for our bacon, we
secretly rejoiced.

"I am confident you have done right, Amenda," said Ethelbertha; "you
would never have been happy with that man."

"No, mum, I don't think I ever should," replied Amenda. "I don't see how
any girl could as hadn't the digestion of an ostrich."

Ethelbertha looked puzzled. "But what has digestion got to do with it?"
she asked.

"A pretty good deal, mum," answered Amenda, "when you're thinking of
marrying a man as can't make a sausage fit to eat.