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wreck my business, and then tell me it doesn’t concern you?”

“Please do not shout,” begged Patricia, nodding in the direction of Mrs. Langham and her old friends. “There are ladies present.”

She nodded a greeting to Mr. Langham, who had entered and now stood regarding the scene with interest from beside the door.

“I will shout if I wish, Miss Weybourn,” stormed the little Jew, his temper getting the upper hand. “I have cause to shout, I shouldn’t wonder. Why are you not in the shop? Why are you not attending to business?”

“The sweet cause of charity, Mr, Ezekiel———”

“Charity! I am not paying you for charity, am I? Am I? For what should I pay you for charity, eh? I pay you to work for me, not for charity! And how do you work for me, eh? Slap my customers in the faces! A fine thing! And don’t you laugh at me, young lady!”

“I can’t help it,” confessed Patricia, allowing her contemptuous smile to broaden a little.

“You can’t help it, eh?” raved Mr. Ezekiel, his hands performing wondrously in the air on either side of the girl’s head. “Well, you have a good laugh, see? Have a good one! This is the one opportunity you get!”

The girl took him at his word. She laughed softly, with a mockery intended for the whole of No. 2 Committee and Mr. Ezekiel.

Mrs. Langham snorted audibly.

“Brazen hussy!” she said, just loud enough for her old friends to hear.

Mr. Ezekiel struggled furiously to drag his wallet from his breast pocket.

“That’s right! That’s right!” he encouraged Patricia savagely. “Open your mouth wide and laugh right down in your neck, Ha! Ha! Ha! Like that. And then you go and laugh somewhere else! You’re sacked!”