his little dog hospital, no doubt. Instantly Miss
Baker was seized with trepidation, her curious little false curls shook,
a faint--a very faint--flush came into her withered cheeks, and her
heart beat so violently under the worsted shawl that she felt obliged
to shift the market-basket to her other arm and put out her free hand to
steady herself against the rail.

On his part, Old Grannis was instantly overwhelmed with confusion. His
awkwardness seemed to paralyze his limbs, his lips twitched and turned
dry, his hand went tremblingly to his chin. But what added to Miss
Baker's miserable embarrassment on this occasion was the fact that the
old Englishman should meet her thus, carrying a sordid market-basket
full of sordid fish and cabbage. It seemed as if a malicious fate
persisted in bringing the two old people face to face at the most
inopportune moments.

Just now, however, a veritable catastrophe occurred. The little old
dressmaker changed her basket to her other arm at precisely the wrong
moment, and Old Grannis, hastening to pass, removing his hat in a
hurried salutation, struck it with his fore arm, knocking it from her
grasp, and sending it rolling and bumping down the stairs. The sole fell
flat upon the first landing; the lentils scattered themselves over the
entire flight; while the cabbage, leaping from step to step, thundered
down the incline and brought up against the street door with a shock
that reverberated through the entire building.

The little retired dressmaker, horribly vexed, nervous and embarrassed,
was hard put to it to keep back the tears. Old Grannis stood for a
moment with averted eyes, murmuring: "Oh, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry.
I--I really--I beg your pardon, really--really."

Marcus Schouler, coming down stairs from his room, saved the situation.

"Hello, people," he cried. "By damn! you've upset your basket--you have,
for a fact. Here, let's pick um up." He and Old Grannis went up and down
the flight, gathering up the fish, the lentils, and the sadly battered
cabbage. Marcus was raging over the pusillanimity of Alexander, of which
Maria had just told him.

"I'll cut him in two--with the whip," he shouted. "I will, I will, I say
I will, for a fact. He wouldn't fight, hey? I'll give um all the fight
he wants, nasty, mangy cur. If he won't fight he won't eat. I'm going
to get the butcher's bull pup and I'll put um both in a bag and shake um
up. I will, for a fact, and I guess Alec will