; not just meagre little bits, doled
out to her stingily bite by bite. And, as if these delectables had been
set out for a special and royal feast, Gypsy tasted this corner and
sampled that, in gourmandish abandon.

"For Pete's sake!" implored Arthur, feverishly tugging at the bridle.
"Get her out! The old man's liable to get back any minute!--He won't do
a thing to me!"

Missy, then, catching some of his perturbation, slapped with the reins,
stroked Gypsy's neck, exhorted her with endearments and then with
threats. But Gypsy wouldn't budge; she was having, unexpectedly but
ecstatically, the time of her career. Missy climbed down; urged and
cajoled, joined Arthur in tugging at the bridle. Gypsy only planted her
dainty forefeet and continued her repast in a manner not dainty at all.
Missy began to feel a little desperate; that former fine frenzy,
that divine madness, that magnificent tingle of aplomb and dash, was
dwindling away. She was conscious of a crowd collecting in the doorway;
there suddenly seemed to be millions of people in the store--rude,
pushing, chortling phantoms as in some dreadful nightmare. Hot,
prickling waves began to wash over her. They were laughing at her.
Spurred by the vulgar guffaws she gave another frantic tug--

Oh, dear heaven! The upper air suddenly thickened with sounds of buzzing
conflict--a family of mud-wasps, roused by the excitement, were circling
round and round! She saw them in terrified fascination--they were
scattering!--zizzing horribly, threateningly as they swooped this way
and that! Heavens!--that one brushed her hand. She tried to shrink
back--then gave an anguished squeal.

WHAT WAS THAT? But she knew what it was. In petrified panic she stood
stock-still, rooted. She was afraid to move lest it sting her more
viciously. She could feel it exploring around--up near her hip now, now
crawling downward, now for a second lost in some voluminous fold. She
found time to return thanks that her breeches had been cut with that
smart bouffance. Then she cringed as she felt it again. How had It got
in there? The realization that she must have torn her pepper-and-salts,
for a breath brought embarrassment acutely to the fore; then, as
that tickling promenade over her anatomy was resumed, she froze under
paramount fear.

"For Pete's sake!" shouted Arthur. "Don't just stand there!--can't you
do SOMETHING?"

But Missy could do nothing. Removing Gypsy was no longer the paramount
issue. R