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"I promise," said he at last with a
deep sigh. "May I sit by you? There is something so repugnant in the very
idea of mad people."
"Try and remember it is their misfortune, not their crime," said Mrs.
Archbold, just like a matronly sister admonishing a brother from school.
She then whistled in a whisper for Brown, who was lurking about unseen
all the time. He emerged and walked about with Alfred, and by-and-bye,
looking down from a corridor, they saw Mrs. Archbold driving the
second-class women before her to dinner like a flock of animals. Whenever
one stopped to look at anything, or try and gossip, the philanthropic
Archbold went at her just like a shepherd's dog at a refractory sheep,
caught her by the shoulders, and drove her squeaking headlong.
At dinner Alfred was so fortunate as to sit opposite a gentleman, who
nodded and grinned at him all dinner with a horrible leer. He could not,
however, enjoy this to the full for a little distraction at his elbow:
his right hand neighbour kept forking pieces out of his plate and
substituting others from his own.


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