me rushing from an inner room, and in
no sweet temper. From the woman she glanced around the shop--
a dairy-shop with a marble-topped counter, and upon the counter a pair
of scales and a large yellow block of margarine.

"It was a naccident," said Tilda firmly and with composure. "And my dog
isn' a nasty cur; it only shows your ignorance. Be quiet, 'Dolph!"

She had to turn and shake her crutch at Godolphus, who, perceiving his
mistress's line of action, at once, in his impulsive Irish way, barked
defiance at the shopwoman.

But the shopwoman's eyes rested on the crutch, and the sight of it
appeared to mollify her.

"My gracious! I do believe you 're the child was hurt at Maggs's Circus
and taken to hospital."

Tilda nodded.

"Did you see me?"

"Carried by on a stretcher--and your face the colour of _that_."
The woman pointed to the marble counter-top.

"I was a serious case," said Tilda impressively. "The people at the
Good Samaritan couldn' remember admittin' the likes of it. There were
complications."

"You don't say!"

"But what's become of Maggs's?"

"Maggs's left a week ago come Tuesday. I know, because they used to buy
their milk of me. They were the first a'most, and the last was the
Menagerie and Gavel's Roundabouts. _They_ packed up last night.
It must be a wearin' life," commented the shopwoman. "But for my part I
like the shows, and so I tell Damper--that's my 'usband. They put a bit
of colour into the place while they last, besides bein' free-'anded with
their money. Light come light go, I reckon; but anyway, it's different
from cows. So you suffered from complications, did you?"

"Internal," Tilda assured her in a voice as hollow as she could make it.
"I must have spit up a quart of blood, first an' last. An' the medicine
I 'ad to take! You wouldn' think it, but the colour was pale
'eliotrope."

"I wonder," said Mrs. Damper sympathetically--"I wonder it stayed in
the stomach."

"It didn'."

"Wouldn' you fancy a glass o' milk, now?"

"It's very kind of you." Tilda put on her best manners. "And 'ere's
'ealth!" she added before sipping, when the milk was handed to her.

"And the dog--wouldn' '_e_ like something?"

"Well, since you mention it--but it's givin' you a 'eap of trouble. If
you 'ave such a thing as a bun, it don't matter 'ow stale."

"I can do better 'n that." Mrs. Damper dived into the inner room, and
re-emerged with a plateful of scraps. "There's alwa