the well-dressed man
about town seemed to have made a deep and unfavourable impression,
"you think you can come mucking around and messing abart and
interfering and mucking around. This bird's bit me in the finger, and
'ere's the finger, if you don't believe me--and I'm going to twist 'is
ruddy neck, if all the perishers with white spats in London come
messing abart and mucking around, so you take them white spats of
yours 'ome and give 'em to the old woman to cook for your Sunday
dinner!"

And Henry, having cleansed his stuff'd bosom of that perilous stuff
which weighs upon the heart, shoved the stick energetically once more
through the railings.

Jill darted forward. Always a girl who believed that, if you want a
thing well done, you must do it yourself, she had applied to Freddie
for assistance merely as a matter of form. All the time she had felt
that Freddie was a broken reed, and such he had proved himself.
Freddie's policy in this affair was obviously to rely on the magic of
speech, and any magic his speech might have had was manifestly offset
by the fact that he was wearing white spats and that Henry,
apparently, belonged to some sort of league or society which had for
its main object the discouragement of white spats. It was plainly no
good leaving the conduct of the campaign to Freddie. Whatever was to
be done must be done by herself. She seized the stick and wrenched it
out of Henry's hand.

"Woof-woof-woof!" said Bill the parrot.

No dispassionate auditor could have failed to detect the nasty ring of
sarcasm. It stung Henry. He was not normally a man who believed in
violence to the gentler sex outside a clump on the head of his missus
when the occasion seemed to demand it; but now he threw away the
guiding principles of a lifetime and turned on Jill like a tiger.

"Gimme that stick!"

"Get back!"

"Here, I say, you know!" said Freddie.

Henry, now thoroughly overwrought, made a rush at Jill; and Jill, who
had a straight eye, hit him accurately on the side of the head.

"Goo!" said Henry, and sat down.

And then, from behind Jill, a voice spoke.

"What's all this?"

A stout policeman had manifested himself from empty space.

"This won't do!" said the policeman.

Erb, who had been a silent spectator of the fray, burst into speech.

"She 'it 'im!"

The policeman looked at Jill. He was an officer of many years' experience
in the Force, and time had dulled in him that respect for good clothe