lly, "it wasn't me. I told you so last night. You get an idea
in your head and--"

"That'll do," said his wife, sharply. "I saw you, George Henshaw, as
plain as I see you now. You were tickling her ear with a bit o' straw,
and that good-for-nothing friend of yours, Ted Stokes, was sitting
behind with another beauty. Nice way o' going on, and me at 'ome all
alone by myself, slaving and slaving to keep things respectable!"

"It wasn't me," reiterated the unfortunate.

"When I called out to you," pursued the unheeding Mrs. Henshaw, "you
started and pulled your hat over your eyes and turned away. I should
have caught you if it hadn't been for all them carts in the way and
falling down. I can't understand now how it was I wasn't killed; I was a
mask of mud from head to foot."

Despite his utmost efforts to prevent it, a faint smile flitted across
the pallid features of Mr. Henshaw.

"Yes, you may laugh," stormed his wife, "and I've no doubt them two
beauties laughed too. I'll take care you don't have much more to laugh
at, my man."

She flung out of the room and began to wash up the crockery. Mr.
Henshaw, after standing irresolute for some time with his hands in his
pockets, put on his hat again and left the house.

He dined badly at a small eating-house, and returned home at six o'clock
that evening to find his wife out and the cupboard empty. He went back
to the same restaurant for tea, and after a gloomy meal went round to
discuss the situation with Ted Stokes. That gentleman's suggestion of
a double alibi he thrust aside with disdain and a stern appeal to talk
sense.

"Mind, if my wife speaks to you about it," he said, warningly, "it
wasn't me, but somebody like me. You might say he 'ad been mistook for
me before."

Mr. Stokes grinned and, meeting a freezing glance from his friend, at
once became serious again.

"Why not say it was you?" he said stoutly. "There's no harm in going for
a 'bus-ride with a friend and a couple o' ladies."

"O' course there ain't," said the other, hotly, "else I shouldn't ha'
done it. But you know what my wife is."

Mr. Stokes, who was by no means a favorite of the lady in question,
nodded. "You _were_ a bit larky, too," he said thoughtfully. "You 'ad
quite a little slapping game after you pretended to steal her brooch."

"I s'pose when a gentleman's with a lady he 'as got to make 'imself
pleasant?" said Mr. Henshaw, with dignity. "Now, if my missis speaks to
you about it, you