of her sultry visage, and he found himself speculating as to whether
the minds of these two women differed as greatly as their outward
appearance. Indeed he questioned whether one had any more mind
than the other, and was inclined to think that despite their widely
separated spheres of life they were equally dwarfed.

While he was thus amusing himself with the contrasts, physical
and metaphysical, which the two passengers opposite him presented,
the stout woman suddenly looked out of the window at her side, and
then, in a tone that would startle the quietest nerves, shouted to
the driver:

"Hold on!"

Miss Mayhew half rose from her seat and looked around with something
like dismay; but as she only encountered Van Berg's slightly humorous
expression, she colored more deeply than before, and recalled her
eyes to the farther angle of the stage with a fixedness and rigidity
as great as if it had contained the head of Medusa.

Meantime the driver drew up to a small cottage by the road-side,
and scrambled down from his seat that he might assist the stout
woman with her accumulation of bundles. She handed him out the
baby, preferring to look after the more precious parcels herself.
Van Berg politely held the door open for her; but just as she was
squeezing through the stage entrance with her arms full and had her
foot on the last step, her cottage door flew open with something
to the effect of an explosion, and out burst three or four children
with a perfect din of cries and shouts. Two vociferous dogs joined
in the sudden uproar; the hitherto drowsy horses started as if a