othing to do with it. He might have been killed, and what
would MR. TRUEPENNY have cared? No! I might have been left a wretched
widow!"

"And much MR. TRUEPENNY would have helped you then, Ma'am," said the
good girl.

"No, he never crosses the _Flitch_--never: and that I shall tell your
master. The foolish, dear fellow! How I will scold him."

"Do, Ma'am; he deserves it all. To go fighting and--and after all, do
you know for a certainty what he went fighting about?"--

"Folly, madness, of course," said I. "Jealous of"--

"Well, I thought so!" cried JOSEPHINE, with a strange knowing look. "I
thought as much. Jealous, and of you, too, above all folks! And in your
Honeymoon, too. Well, I'm sure; as if there wasn't time enough for
that!"

"I don't mean to say jealous; not of me--of course not. But the fact is,
he fired up at a rudeness, a liberty that"--

"You don't say so, Ma'am!" cried the girl. "La, and if you please, how
was that?"

"Why, it was all folly--all nonsense--and he ought to have known better;
but--there was a little flower-girl on the beach. What's the matter,
JOSEPHINE?" for I saw the creature look suddenly confused.

"Nothing, Ma'am--only I--I once saw that girl--a gipsey-girl,
Ma'am--with flowers, Ma'am; yes, to be sure."

"Then you know her?" I asked.

"Can't say I know. Because one should hardly lower oneself to know a
creature of that sort. Only once, and perhaps twice, I've had a nosegay
of her."

"Well, she _would_ give a nosegay to me," said I.

"Just like 'em, Ma'am," replied JOSEPHINE.

"Yes. She ran to me, and put a nosegay in my hand. And in that nosegay,
what, JOSEPHINE--(and I watched her narrowly as I further
questioned)--what do you think there was?"

"Law! Who can answer for the gipsies," cried JOSEPHINE.

"Well, then, there was a letter--a love-letter; and that letter finding
its way to your master's hand"--

"Oh, Ma'am! _Do_ forgive me! Pray forgive me! I couldn't help it; but I
see it all now. The gentleman _would_ write--that letter was not for
you!"--

"No? For whom then?"--

"If you please, Ma'am, and you'll not be angry, that letter"--said the
bold creature--"that letter was for me!"--

"For _you_! And here has nearly been murder done--here has your
master"--

But at the moment FRED ran into the room, and I was in his arms.

* * * * *

[Illustration: UNCOMFORTABLE POSITION OF MR. JONES DURING A
TABLE-TURNING EXPERIMENT.