You'll recollect that if I _had_ got over that stile I should have come across a rabid dog where there was no possibility of escape, and no doubt have got frightfully bitten.

But when I told you how I was prevented, you scoffed at the whole story, and said that I was superstitious .-- Stop a minute! I haven't finished yet .-- Then, only the other day, my life was saved from all those bricks tumbling on me when I was asleep by just the same sort of interposition.

Again you jeered at me, and when I told you I had heard raps in the wall you ridiculed the idea, and--do you remember ?--the words were scarcely out of your mouth when you heard the raps yourself, and then you got nearly beside yourself with fright and anger, and said it was the devil.

And now for the third time the same sort of thing has happened.
What is the good of telling you about it?
You'd only scoff and jeer as you did before, although on this occasion it is your own life that has been saved, not mine." Certainly Master Austin was having his revenge on Aunt Charlotte for the torrent of abuse she had poured upon him a few minutes previously.
For a short time she sat quite still, the picture of perplexity and irritation.

The facts as Austin stated them were incontrovertible, and yet--probably because she lacked the instinct of causality--she could not accept his explanation of them.