or three-and-six. If you'd been under the
counter in a dirty little----"

"Well, all right! I wasn't complaining; but I like things clean." And
she took the "Christian Martyr" into the kitchen.

* * * * *

"Where did you mean to put it?" asked Eliza.

"The only good place would be between 'The Charge of the Light Brigade'
and 'The Stag at Bay.'"

"What! In the dining-room?"

"Certainly."

"Well, I shouldn't," said Eliza. "It's a sacred subject, and we use the
drawing-room on Sundays. That's the place."

"I think I can trust my own taste," I said. I got a brass-headed nail
and a hammer, and began. Eliza said afterward that she had known the
chair would break before ever I stood on it.

"Then you might have mentioned it," I said, coldly. "However, you shall
learn that when I have made up my mind to do a thing, I do it." I rang
the bell, and told the girl to fetch the steps.

I hung the "Christian Martyr," and was very pleased with the effect.
The whole room looked brighter and more cheerful. I asked Eliza what
she thought, and she answered, as I expected, that the picture ought to
have been in the drawing-room.

"Eliza," I said, "there is one little fault which you should try to
correct. It is pigheadedness."

* * * * *

At breakfast next morning the picture was all crooked. I put it
straight. Then the girl brought in the bacon, rubbed against the
picture, and put it crooked again. I put it straight again, and sat
down. The girl, in passing out, put it crooked once more.

"Really," I said to Eliza, "this is a little too much!"

"Then put some of it back."

"I was not referring to what I have on my plate, but to that girl's
conduct. I don't buy 'Christian Martyrs' for her to treat them in that
way, and I think you should speak about it."

"She can't get past without rubbing against it. You've put it so low. I
said it would be better in the drawing-room."

As usual, I kept my temper.

"Eliza," I said, "have you already forgotten what I told you last
night? We all of us--even the best of us--have our faults, but
surely----"

"While you're talking you're missing your train," she said.

* * * * *

On my return from the city I went into the dining-room and found the
picture gone. Eliza was sitting there as calmly as if nothing had
happened.

"Where is the 'Christian Martyr'?"