elief Arthur Miles
answered out of the darkness, assuring her, albeit in a muffled voice,
that they were both safe.

"But what's the _meanin'_ of it?" Tilda demanded again.

"The igsplosion's the meanin' of it."

"But there ain't _been_ no explosh'n. And anyway," said Tilda, "you
ain't tellin' me you been _blown_ 'ere?"

"Igsplosion or no igsplosion," replied the Fat Lady incontestably,
"'ere I h'am."

"_Sure_ yer can't move?" Tilda coaxed.

At this the Fat Lady showed some irritation.

"I ought to know what I'm capable of by this time. . . . If you could
run along and fetch somebody with a tackle and pulley now--"

"I got a friend comin' presently. 'E's quite a 'andy young feller,
_an'_ tender-'earted: 'e won't leave yer like this, no fear. . . . But,
o' course, it'll be a shock to 'im, 'appenin' in upon us an' findin'--
well, so much _more_'n 'e expected. I'm thinkin' 'ow to break it to 'im
gently, 'ere in the dark." Tilda considered for a while. "It might
'elp if I knew yer name. 'Twouldn' be fair--would it?--to start off
that we'd got a surprise for 'im, an' would 'e guess?"

"He'll find out, fast enough, when he strikes a light," said the Fat
Lady between resigned despair and professional pride. "But my name's
Mrs. Lobb, when you introjuice him."

"Widow?"

"I don't know why you should suppose it."

"No," said Tilda after musing a moment; "there ain't no real reason, o'
course. On'y I thought--An' you not mentionin' a nusband, under the
circumstances."

To her astonishment, Mrs. Lobb gave way and shook with mountainous sobs.

"I'm a maiden lady," she confessed, "and I'll conceal it no longer,
when, God knows, I may be lyin' here punished for my vanity. . . . But
'twasn't all vanity, neither: it sounded more comfortable. If it had
been vanity, I'd ha' chosen Montmorency or St. Clair--not Lobb.
Wouldn't I now? . . . Of course, you won't understand, at your age; but
there's a sort of _sheltered_ feelin'. An' I'm a bundle of nerves.
You should see me," wound up Mrs. Lobb enigmatically, "with a mouse."

But at this moment Tilda whispered "'Ush!" Someone was stealthily
lifting the vallance. "Is that you, Sam?" she challenged.

"Aye, aye, missie. All safe?"

"_And_ snug. . . . Can yer risk striking a match? Fact is, we got a
lady friend 'ere, an' she wants yer 'elp badly."

Sam struck a sulphur match.

"Good Lord!" he breathed, staring across the blue flame, and still as he
stared h