"I am!" she snapped at last.
"You are not!" I repeated, stepping a bit toward her. I was conscious of a bit of the rowdy in my manner, but I seemed powerless to prevent it. All my culture was again but the flimsiest veneer.
"I am, too!" she again said, though plainly dismayed.
"No!" I quite thundered it, I dare say. "No, no! No, no!"
The nipper cried out from his box. Not until later did it occur to me that he had considered himself to be addressed in angry tones.
"No, no!" I thundered again. I couldn't help myself, though silly rot I call it now. And then to my horror the mother herself began to weep.
"I will!" she sobbed. "I will! I will! I will!"
"No, no!" I insisted, and I found myself seizing her shoulders, not knowing if I mightn't shake her smartly, so drawn-out had the woman got me; and still I kept shouting my senseless "No, no!" at which the nipper was now yelling.
She struggled her best as I clutched her, but I seemed to have the strength of a dozen men; the woman was nothing in my grasp, and my arms were taking their blind rage out on her.
Secure I held hear, and presently she no longer struggled, and I was curiously no longer angry, but found myself soothing her in many strange ways. I mean to say, the passage between us had fallen to be of the very shockingly most sentimental character.
"You are so masterful!" she panted.
"I'll have my own way," I threatened; "I've told you often enough."
