I don't want to
be upset or run over."
Poor Ethel! I shall never forget how heart-broken she was. It was the
want of confidence that wounded her.
But these are reminiscences of other days, having no connection with the
days of which I am--or should be--writing; and to wander from one matter
to another is, in a teller of tales, a grievous sin, and a growing custom
much to be condemned. Therefore I will close my eyes to all other
memories, and endeavour to see only that little white and green houseboat
by the ferry, which was the scene of our future collaborations.
Houseboats then were not built to the scale of Mississippi steamers, but
this boat was a small one, even for that primitive age. The man from
whom we hired it described it as "compact." The man to whom, at the end
of the first month, we tried to sub-let it, characterised it as "poky."
In our letters we traversed this definition. In our hearts we agreed
with it.
At first, however, its size--or, rather, its lack of size--was one of its
chief charms in Ethelbertha's eyes. The fact that if you got out of bed
carelessly you were certain to knock your head against the ceiling, and
that it was utterly impossible for any man to put on his trousers except
in the saloon, she regarded as a capital joke.
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