ess in his strong clasp.

"What you goin' to do about it, Tillie? You can't help yourself--you
got to get kissed if you want to or no!" And again his articulate
caresses sounded upon her shrinking lips, and he roared with laughter
in his own satisfaction and in his enjoyment of her predicament. "You
can't help yourself," he said, crushing her against him in a bearish
hug.

"Absalom!" the girl's voice rang out sharply in pain and fear.

Then of a sudden Absalom's wrists were seized in a strong grip, and the
young giant found his arms pinned behind him.

"Now, then, Absalom, you let this little girl alone. Do you
understand?" said Fairchilds, coolly, as he let go his hold on the
youth and stepped round to his side.

Absalom's face turned white with fury as he realized who had dared to
interfere. He opened his lips, but speech would not come to him.
Clenching his fingers, he drew back his arm, but his heavy fist, coming
swiftly forward, was caught easily in Fairchilds's palm--and held there.

"Come, come," he said soothingly, "it isn't worth while to row, you
know. And in the presence of the lady!"

"You mind to your OWN business!" spluttered Absalom, struggling to free
his hand, and, to his own surprise, failing. Quickly he drew back his
left fist and again tried to strike, only to find it too caught and
held, with no apparent effort on the part of the teacher. Tillie, at
first pale with fright at what had promised to be so unequal a contest
in view of the teacher's slight frame and the brawny, muscular strength
of Absalom, felt her pulses bound with a thrill of admiration for this
cool, quiet force which could render the other's fury so helpless;
while at the same time she felt sick with shame.

"Blame you!" cried Absalom, wildly. "Le' me be! It don't make nothin'
to you if I kiss my girl! I don't owe YOU nothin'! You le' me be!"

"Certainly," returned Fairchilds, cheerfully. "Just stop annoying Miss
Tillie, that's all I want."'

He dropped the fellow's hands and deliberately drew out his
handkerchief to wipe his own.

A third time Absalom made a furious dash at him, to find his two wrists
caught in the vise-like grip of his antagonist.

"Tut, tut, Absalom, this is quite enough. Behave yourself, or I shall
be obliged to hurt you."

"YOU--you white-faced, woman-faced mackerel! YOU think you kin hurt me!
You--"

"Now then," Fairchilds again dropped Absalom's hands and picked up from
the settee the book wh