nd he attackted me
and kicked my f-f-Face-ace off."

Mr. and Mrs. Budlong were so elated with the same idea that they forgot
to console their heart-broken offspring with more than Mr. Budlong's
curt, "First teeth anyway; saves you a trip to the dentist." He nodded
to his wife.

"Just the excuse we were looking for."

"Sent direct from heaven," nodded Mrs. Budlong. "You call up Roscoe
Detwiller this minute and tell him his son has criminal tendencies and
ought to be in jail and will undoubtedly die on the gallows. Then he
won't speak to you to-morrow."

"You bet he won't. He'll just quietly do to me what his boy did to
Ulie. No, my dear, you tell all that to Mrs. Detwiller yourself."

Mrs. Budlong tossed her head with fine contempt. "What cowards men
are! always shielding themselves behind women's skirts. Well, if
you're afraid, I'm not. I'll give her the biggest talking to she ever
had in her born days."

She rose with fortitude and started to the telephone, sneered at it and
glared at it. Her husband stood by her to support her in the hour of
need. He watched her ask for the number, and snap ferociously at the
central. Then she fell panicky again and held the transmitter to him
appealingly. He waved her away scornfully.

She set her teeth hard and there was grimness in her eye and tone as
she said: "Is this you, Mrs. Detwiller! ---- Oh, yes, thank you, I'm
very well. I wanted to tell you-m ---- oh, yes, he's well, too. But
what I started to say was ---- Yes, so Ulie says! ------ Yes, right in
the face ------ Oh, of course, ------ Naturally ------ Boys will be
------ ------ Oh, I'm sorry you punished him. He's such a sweet child
------ ------ Oh, don't think of it. I'm sure it was all Ulie's fault.
It will teach him better next time. He's so rough! ------ ------ Oh,
really, how awfully sweet of you. Good night, dear."

She stuck the receiver on the hook and looked for a hook to hang
herself on. Her eyes were shifty with shame as she mumbled:

"I couldn't get a word in edgeways. She apologized."

"She apologized!" Mr. Budlong roared. "Why, you ate out of her hand.
And you were going to show me what a coward I-- Butter wouldn't have
melted--say, why didn't you kiss her?"

Mrs. Budlong was suffering a greater dismay than remorse. "What d'you
suppose that cat of a Clara Detwiller's going to do?" she moaned.
"She's going to make her boy send Ulie a nice Christmas present! And
now we'll ha