Where she learned such language I don't know. My ears _burn_! But that
isn't the worst; you should hear what--"

"He must of said something pretty low down." Briskow spoke quietly; his
bright blue eyes were hard. "I reckon she'll tell me."

"You don't understand," chattered the woman. "She flung the man bodily
out of the window and into a bed of thorns. It nearly killed him; he
was painfully lacerated and bruised and--Right in the middle of a golf
game! It did something dreadful--I don't know what--just as the world's
champion caught the ball, or something."

"If he's crippled I'll get him that much easier," said Briskow, and at
the purposeful expression upon his weather-beaten face Mrs. Ring
uttered a faint bleat of terror. She pawed at him as he undertook to
pass her.

"Oh, my heavens! What are you going to do?"

"Depends on what he said to Allie."

The woman wrung her hands. "What people! What--_savages_! You're--going
to shoot him, I suppose, just because--"

"Yes'm!" the father nodded. "You got it right, motif an' all. 'Just
because'!"

"You _can't_. I sha'n't permit it. I--I'll call the police."

"Don't do that, ma'am. I've stood a lot from you, in one way or
another."

"But it's _murder_! You--you can't mean it." Moans issued from the
speaker. "What _ever_ possessed me to accept this position? It's
unendurable, and I'll be involved--"

"I've saw your last raise, Miz' Ring."

"Do you think I'd stay, after this? It's bad enough to be made
ridiculous--the whole hotel is in laughter; laughter at me, I dare say,
as much as at her. Imagine! Hurling a full-grown man from a window--"

"I don't hear nobody laughing." Briskow swung his head slowly from side
to side.

"But to contemplate murder--"

"What's more, I don't intend to hear nobody laugh. By God! Now I come
to think about it, there ain't a-goin' to be no laughing at all around
here." Gus continued slowly to swing his head, like a bear. "She's my
kid!" He pushed past Mrs. Ring, still muttering, "My kid--there ain't
a-goin' to be no laughing at all."

Going directly to the desk, he asked for the manager, then stood aside,
hat in hand, until the latter made his appearance. The manager began a
hasty and rather mixed apology on behalf of the hotel for what had
occurred in the dancing room, but his tone of annoyance was an
accusation in itself. It was plain that, to his mind, the catastrophe
on the eighteenth green outweighed in importance whatever