my own strength, as the saying is. I used to hurt people
just in play like, without knowing it. I used to have a hug like a
bear."

"Fancy being hugged like that!" said the girl. "How awful!" she added,
hastily, as she caught the eye of the speechless Mrs. Jobling.

"Like a bear," repeated Mr. Jobling, highly pleased at the impression he
had made. "I'm pretty strong now; there ain't many as I'm afraid of."

He bent his arm and thoughtfully felt his biceps, and Mrs. Jobling
almost persuaded herself that she must be dreaming, as she saw the girl
lean forward and pinch Mr. Jobling's arm. Mr. Jobling was surprised too,
but he had the presence of mind to bend the other.

"Enormous!" said the girl, "and as hard as iron. What a prize-fighter
you'd have made!"

"He don't want to do no prize-fighting," said Mrs. Jobling, recovering
her speech; "he's a respectable married man."

Mr. Jobling shook his head over lost opportunities. "I'm too old," he
remarked.

"He's forty-seven," said his wife.

"Best age for a man, in my opinion," said the girl; "just entering his
prime. And a man is as old as he feels, you know."

Mr. Jobling nodded acquiescence and observed that he always felt about
twenty-two; a state of affairs which he ascribed to regular habits, and
a great partiality for the company of young people.

"I was just twenty-two when I married," he mused, "and my missis was
just six months--"

"You leave my age alone," interrupted his wife, trembling with passion.
"I'm not so fond of telling my age to strangers."

"You told mine," retorted Mr. Jobling, "and nobody asked you to do that.
Very free you was in coming out with mine."

"I ain't the only one that's free," breathed the quivering Mrs. Jobling.
"I 'ope your ankle is better?" she added, turning to the visitor.

"Much better, thank you," was the reply.

"Got far to go?" queried Mrs. Jobling.

The girl nodded. "But I shall take a tram at the end of the street," she
said, rising.

Mr. Jobling rose too, and all that he had ever heard or read about
etiquette came crowding into his mind. A weekly journal patronized by
his wife had three columns regularly, but he taxed his memory in vain
for any instructions concerning brown-eyed strangers with sprained
ankles. He felt that the path of duty led to the tram-lines. In a
somewhat blundering fashion he proffered his services; the girl accepted
them as a matter of course.

Mrs. Jobling, with lips tightly compress