"I gave her the reins and got heavily out of the dog-cart. She moved on to the seat I had vacated and I put the rug carefully round her feet. Suddenly I remembered.
"Stop," I said. "Let me get some matches. At least your lamps shall be lighted."
Not a bit of it. Said she didn't want them lighted. Simply wouldn't have it.
While I was speaking, my fingers had mechanically strayed to the ticket pocket of my coat, where I sometimes carry my matches loose.
"By George!" I said.
"What is it?"
"I've just found a bit of a match—with the head on."
"Oh, boy-scout, and you've had it all the time."
"Yes, but it wouldn't be enough to light the lamps with."
"Oh!"