such a lovely day for them." She proceeded to numerous other details, clearly avoiding some cardinal incident.
"It was all extremely respectable and nice, ma’am; but her father didn't wear a black coat, and looked quite out of place, ma'am. Mr. Piddingquirk———"
"Who?"
"Mr. Piddingquirk—William that was, ma’am—had white gloves, and a coat like a clergyman, and a lovely chrysanthemum. He looked so nice, ma'am. And there was red carpet down, just like for gentle-folks. And they say he gave the clerk four shillings, ma'am. It was a real kerridge they had—not a fly. When they came out of church there was rice-throwing, and her two little sisters dropping dead flowers. And some one threw a slipper, and then I threw a boot———"
"Threw a boot, Jane!"
"Yes, ma'am. Aimed at her. But it hit him. Yes, ma'am, hard. Gev him a black eye, I should think. I only threw that one. I hadn't the heart to try again. All the little boys cheered when it hit him."
After an interval—"I am sorry the boot hit him."
Another pause. The potatoes were being scrubbed violently. "He always was a bit above me, you know, ma'am. And he was led away."
The potatoes were more than finished. Jane rose sharply with a sigh, and rapped the basin down on the table.
"I don't care," she said. "I don't care a rap. He will find out his mistake yet. It serves me right. I
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