then a bump, a noise of splintering wood, another bump, and we were still alive and unhurt, with a buzz of voices round us—quite unkind voices some of them, though I never felt more as if I wanted kindness. It occurred to me to open my eyes, and I found that we had brought up against the curbstone, while one of our mud-guards had been smashed by the iron rail of the electric street car, now stationary. Our Napier had turned completely round. The conductor of the tram was scrutinising his scratched rail and saying things; but Brown, who had jumped out to examine into our damage, slyly slipped something that looked like a five-franc piece into his hand. This reminds me, I must pay Brown back; he can't refuse such a thing as that, though it seems he has taken a sort of pledge against accepting tips in his professional career. Funny, isn't it? "For a touch of new paint," I heard him murmur to the conductor in his nice French, and that man must have been in a great hurry to try the effect of the "touch," for no sooner did the coin change hands than he stopped scolding, and away buzzed the big electric bumblebee.
"For mercy's sake, what was it that happened?" gasped Aunt Mary.
"Side-slip, miss," said Brown in a tone dry enough to turn the mud to dust, " from putting on the brakes too quickly. A driver can't be too careful on a surface like this." Which was one for Jimmy.
The poor fellow took it with outward meekness, though I saw his eyes give a flash—and, do you know, our blond Jimmy can look quite malevolent!
