reassured.

"Why were you running?"

I spread out my hands.

"The beggars were at my heels."

"By which you mean--"

"That the inmates of the hive in which I was just now actively
interesting myself, resented such active interest and endeavoured to
fall upon me in great numbers."

"And you escaped unhurt?"

"Except that at the outset I was winged in the ear, I have baulked them
of their prey. Selah!"

"I had an idea that the person of a beer was sacred."

"So it is, my dear. But these were impious bees, dead to all sense of
right and wrong. They've done themselves in this time. Guilty of
sacrilege and brawling, they may shortly expect a great plague of
toads. It will undoubtedly come upon them. I shall curse them
tomorrow morning directly after breakfast."

"Have you really been stung?"

"Every time."

"How exciting."

"Perhaps. But it's very overrated, believe me."

"Let me look."

I submitted readily. After a brief scrutiny my lady announced that she
could see the sting. Her fingers dealt very gently with the injured
lobe, and by dint of looking out of the far corners of my eyes, I just
managed to command a prospect of one grey eye and half the red mouth.
Her lips were parted and she was smiling a little.

"If I didn't love your mouth when you smile, I should be inclined to
suggest that it was nothing to laugh about," I said reprovingly.

The grey eye met mine. Then she laid a small cool hand firmly on my
chin and pushed it round and away.

"Otherwise I can't see properly," she explained. Then, "I believe I
can dig it out," she said quietly.

I broke away at that and looked round. She was quite serious and began
to unfasten a gold safety-pin.

"Look here," I said hurriedly. "You're awfully kind; but, you know, as
it is in, don't you think perhaps it had better stay in? I mean, after
all, a sting in the ear--"

She just waved my head round and began.

"Police," I said feebly. "Assault and wounding stalk in your midst.
Police."

She really got it out very well...

"And so you live here?" she said, after a while.

"In the vicinity," said I. "About a mile and a half away as the crow
flies or a beer runs--the terms are synonymous, you know. Large, grey,
creepered residence, four reception, two bed, six bath, commands
extensive views, ten minutes from workhouse, etc., etc."

"Is it 'White Ladies?'"

"It is. From which you now behold me an outcast--a wanderer upon the