Stiles.

"Some time during the morning," said Mrs. Tarbell; and she turned to the
office-boy, with whom she began to converse in an undertone. Mrs. Stiles
came walking across the floor, slow and lugubrious. She bade Mrs.
Tarbell good-day. Mrs. Tarbell bowed her out as quickly as possible,
and then waited for a couple of minutes to give her time to get out of
the way.

But on going down-stairs Mrs. Tarbell found her standing in the
door-way, holding her umbrella half open and peering out into the rain,
Mrs. Stiles explained that she was waiting for a car.

"They run every two or three minutes," said Mrs. Tarbell sweetly.
"_Good_-day."

"Here's one now," said Mrs. Stiles. "Mrs. Tarbell, I just wanted to
say--mebbe you might think I wasn't appreciative of your kindness, and
that all I cared about was--"

"Not at all," said Mrs. Tarbell. "Not at all, I assure you. I
understand, perfectly. You will miss your--"

"That's so, that's so," said Mrs. Stiles. "Driver! driver!" And she ran
down the steps, flourishing her umbrella wildly.

Mrs. Tarbell put up her own umbrella, and looked down the street. The
rain splashed up from the pavement, the tree-boxes were wet and dismal,
the little rivers in the gutters raced along, shaking their tawny manes,
the umbrellas of the passing pedestrians were sleek and dripping, like
the coats of the seals in the Zoological Garden. Now that she was rid of
Mrs. Stiles, was it absolutely necessary for her to go out? She
hesitated a moment.

Suddenly she heard a cry from the street. Two or three men in front of
her stopped quickly, and then ran toward the prostrate figure of
somebody who had fallen from the car which had halted a few steps
farther on. The car-horses were plunging and swinging from one side of
the car to the other; the conductor had alighted and was hurrying back
toward the victim of the accident; the passengers were pushing out on
the back platform. Mrs. Stiles had slipped or been thrown down on the
muddy car-track. Mrs. Tarbell recognized her long black figure as it was
lifted up. A sad sight the poor woman was, her india-rubber cloak
spotted and streaked with mud and muddy water, her head hanging back
from her shoulders, her face the color of a miller's coat exactly,--a
dirty, grayish white,--and her arms shaking about with the motion of her
bearers. She had fainted; her bearers were looking about in the hope of
seeing an apothecary's shop, or some other such occasional