Part 23

"She can hang them where she pleases. I suppose I can bear it. It's only one more trial to bear. One thing goes after another."

"On the contrary," said Eliza, "she's never lost as much as a collar. There's a smut on your nose."

"It can stop there," I said, moodily, and went out into the garden.

THE "CHRISTIAN MARTYR"

The "Christian Martyr" was what is called an engraving, and a very tasteful thing, too, besides being the largest picture we had. It represented a young woman, drowned, floating down a river by night, with her hands tied, and a very pleasing expression on her face. With the frame (maple, and a gilt border inside) it came to three-and-six. I bought it in the Edgware Road on my own responsibility, and carried it home. I thought Eliza would like it, and she did.

"Poor thing!" she said. "You can see she must have been a lady, too. But frightfully dusty!"

"You can't get everything for three-and-six. If you'd been under the counter in a dirty little----"

"Well, all right! I wasn't complaining; but I like things clean." And she took the "Christian Martyr" into the kitchen.

* * * * *

"Where did you mean to put it?" asked Eliza.

"The only good place would be between 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' and 'The Stag at Bay.'"

"What! In the dining-room?"

"Certainly."

"Well, I shouldn't," said Eliza. "It's a sacred subject, and we use the drawing-room on Sundays. That's the place."

"I think I can trust my own taste," I said. I got a brass-headed nail and a hammer, and began. Eliza said afterward that she had known the chair would break before ever I stood on it.

"Then you might have mentioned it," I said, coldly. "However, you shall learn that when I have made up my mind to do a thing, I do it." I rang the bell, and told the girl to fetch the steps.

I hung the "Christian Martyr," and was very pleased with the effect. The whole room looked brighter and more cheerful. I asked Eliza what she thought, and she answered, as I expected, that the picture ought to have been in the drawing-room.

"Eliza," I said, "there is one little fault which you should try to correct. It is pigheadedness."

* * * * *

At breakfast next morning the picture was all crooked. I put it straight. Then the girl brought in the bacon, rubbed against the picture, and put it crooked again. I put it straight again, and sat down. The girl, in passing out, put it crooked once more.

"Really," I said to Eliza, "this is a little too much!"

"Then put some of it back."

"I was not referring to what I have on my plate, but to that girl's conduct. I don't buy 'Christian Martyrs' for her to treat them in that way, and I think you should speak about it."

"She can't get past without rubbing against it. You've put it so low. I said it would be better in the drawing-room."

As usual, I kept my temper.

"Eliza," I said, "have you already forgotten what I told you last night? We all of us--even the best of us--have our faults, but surely----"

"While you're talking you're missing your train," she said.

* * * * *