here immediately," he said. "Here is
her friend, Miss Mergle."

Mr. Hoopdriver unfolded his arms slowly, and, with an air of immense
calm, thrust his hands into his breeches pockets. Then with one of those
fatal hesitations of his, it occurred to him that this attitude was
merely vulgarly defiant he withdrew both, returned one and pulled at
the insufficient moustache with the other. Miss Mergle caught him in
confusion. "Is this the man?" she said to Dangle, and forthwith, "How
DARE you, sir? How dare you face me? That poor girl!"

"You will permit me to observe," began Mr. Hoopdriver, with a splendid
drawl, seeing himself, for the first time in all this business, as a
romantic villain.

"Ugh," said Miss Mergle, unexpectedly striking him about the midriff
with her extended palms, and sending him staggering backward into the
hall of the hotel.

"Let me pass," said Miss Mergle, in towering indignation. "How dare
you resist my passage?" and so swept by him and into the dining-room,
wherein Jessie had sought refuge.

As Mr. Hoopdriver struggled for equilibrium with the umbrella-stand,
Dangle and Phipps, roused from their inertia by Miss Mergle's activity,
came in upon her heels, Phipps leading. "How dare you prevent that lady
passing?" said Phipps.

Mr. Hoopdriver looked obstinate, and, to Dangle's sense, dangerous, but
he made no answer. A waiter in full bloom appeared at the end of the
passage, guardant. "It is men of your stamp, sir," said Phipps, "who
discredit manhood."

Mr. Hoopdriver thrust his hands into his pockets. "Who the juice are
you?" shouted Mr. Hoopdriver, fiercely.

"Who are YOU, sir?" retorted Phipps. "Who are you? That's the question.
What are YOU, and what are you doing, wandering at large with a young
lady under age?"

"Don't speak to him," said Dangle.

"I'm not a-going to tell all my secrets to any one who comes at me,"
said Hoopdriver. "Not Likely." And added fiercely, "And that I tell you,
sir."

He and Phipps stood, legs apart and both looking exceedingly fierce at
one another, and Heaven alone knows what might not have happened, if the
long clergyman had not appeared in the doorway, heated but deliberate.
"Petticoated anachronism," said the long clergyman in the doorway,
apparently still suffering from the antiquated prejudice that demanded a
third wheel and a black coat from a clerical rider. He looked at Phipps
and Hoopdriver for a moment, then extending his hand towards the lat