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“You dare! You dare!” challenged Mrs, Langham, drawing back a little nevertheless. “I’ll have you given in charge! Percival!”

Mr. Langham continued to gaze at the sky, deaf to the appeal.

“I’ll take the risk,” said Patricia, feinting with her right hand and striking with her left. “Now!”

“Percival! Percival!” screamed the injured lady, her eyes filling with tears of rage and pain.

Mr. Langham turned slowly.

“What is it?” he asked mildly, frowning over the top of his pince-nez.

“Call a policeman, and have this woman given in charge!”

There was a moment of silence.

Mr. Langham looked at his wife and at the girl who faced her.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Queenie!” he said, and returned to his study of the sky.

Mrs. Langham and her old friends ceased to breathe for a moment, so amazing was the spectacle of a worm attempting to turn.

Patricia smiled maliciously.

“What did you say, Percival?” demanded his wife imperiously, when she had recovered her breath. “What did you say?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Queenie!”

Percival Langham turned and approached the two women. His wife stared at him, fascinated, almost forgetful of her enmity in her amazement.

“You asked for it, my dear,” he told his wife. “I have told you often that your tongue would get you into trouble some day. As for calling a constable, I fancy you spoke without consideration, I do not care to have my wife appear as defendant in an assault case, any more than my wife would care to argue this matter in court. Personally, I think you owe Miss Weybourn another apology.”

Mrs. Langham’s eyes rolled upwards until the whites beneath the pupils were visible. She gasped