a father as you. D'yer think I didn't know wot you
was up ter them nights you was awy--courtin', yus, courtin'? You're a
nice man, you are!'

Jim did not answer her, but walked on. At last he turned round to the
people who were following and said:

'Na then, wot d'you want 'ere? You jolly well clear, or I'll give some
of you somethin'!'

They were mostly boys and women, and at his words they shrank back.

''E's afraid ter sy anythin' ter me,' jeered Mrs. Blakeston. ''E's a
beauty!'

Jim entered his house, and she followed him till they came up into
their room. Polly was giving the children their tea. They all started
up as they saw their mother with her hair and clothes in disorder,
blotches of dried blood on her face, and the long scratch-marks.

'Oh, mother,' said Polly, 'wot is the matter?'

''E's the matter.' she answered, pointing to her husband. 'It's
through 'im I've got all this. Look at yer father, children; e's a
father to be proud of, leavin' yer ter starve an' spendin' 'is week's
money on a dirty little strumper.'

Jim felt easier now he had not got so many strange eyes on him.

'Now, look 'ere,' he said, 'I'm not goin' ter stand this much longer,
so just you tike care.'

'I ain't frightened of yer. I know yer'd like ter kill me, but yer'll
get strung up if you do.'

'Na, I won't kill yer, but if I 'ave any more of your sauce I'll do
the next thing to it.'

'Touch me if yer dare,' she said, 'I'll 'ave the law on you. An' I
shouldn't mind 'ow many month's 'ard you got.'

'Be quiet!' he said, and, closing his hand, gave her a heavy blow in
the chest that made her stagger.

'Oh, you ----!' she screamed.

She seized the poker, and in a fury of rage rushed at him.

'Would yer?' he said, catching hold of it and wrenching it from her
grasp. He threw it to the end of the room and grappled with her. For a
moment they swayed about from side to side, then with an effort he
lifted her off her feet and threw her to the ground; but she caught
hold of him and he came down on the top of her. She screamed as her
head thumped down on the floor, and the children, who were standing
huddled up in a corner, terrified, screamed too.

Jim caught hold of his wife's head and began beating it against the
floor.

She cried out: 'You're killing me! Help! help!'

Polly in terror ran up to her father and tried to pull him off.

'Father, don't 'it 'er! Anythin' but thet--for God's sike!'

'Leave me alone,' he sa