pouring, and had behaved resentfully.  Florence bore one result on the back of her left hand, two others on the thumb and second finger of her right hand, and another, naturally the most conspicuous, on the point of her chin.  These had all been painful, in spite of mud poultices, but, excited by the anticipation of a kindly smiling fish man, and occupied with plans for getting Herbert to spend part of his two dollars and a half for mutual refreshment, she had borne up cheerfully.  Now, comprehending that she had suffered in vain, she suffered anew, and hated bugs, all fish men, and the world.

It was Herbert who broke the silence and renewed the altercation.  “How far you expeck me to go on luggin’ this ole basket?” he demanded bitterly.  “All the way home?”

“I don’t care how far,” she informed him.  “You can throw it away if you want to.  It’s certainly no propaty of mine, thank you!”

“Look here, didn’t you promise you’d carry it home?”

“I said I spoke to.  I didn’t say I would carry it.”

“Well, I’d like to know the dif——­”

But Florence cut him off.  “I’ll tell you the difference, since you’re so anxious to know the truth, Mister Herbert Atwater!  The difference is just this:  you had no biznuss to meddle with those vile ole bugs in the first place, and get me all stung up so’t I shouldn’t wonder I’d haf to have the doctor, time I get home, and if I do I’m goin’ to tell mamma all about it and make her send the bill to your father.  I want you to know I hurt!”

“My goodness!” Herbert burst out.  “Don’t you s’pose I hurt any?  I guess you don’t hurt any worse than——­”

She stopped him:  “Listen!”

From down the street there came a brazen clamouring for the right of way; it grew imperiously louder, and there were clatterings and whizzings of metallic bodies at speed, while little blurs and glistenings in the distance grew swiftly larger, taking shape as a fire engine and a hose-cart.  Then, round the near-by corner, came perilously steering the long “hook-and-ladder wagon”; it made the turn and went by, with its firemen imperturbable on the running boards.

“Fire!” Florence cried joyfully.  “Let’s go!” And, pausing no instant, she made off up the street, shouting at the top of her voice:  “Fire!  Fire!  Fire!  Fire!”

Herbert followed.  He was not so swift a runner as she, though this he never submitted to a test admitted to be fair and conclusive; and he found her demonstration of superiority particularly offensive now, as she called back over her shoulder:  “Why don’t you keep up with me?  Can’t you keep up?”

“I’d show you!” he panted.  “If I didn’t haf to lug this ole basket, I’d leave you a mile behind mighty quick.”

“Well, why’n’t you drop it, then?”

“You s’pose I’m goin’ to throw my c’lection away after all the trouble I been through with it?”