any one hearing what I've got to say. This is the public street, this is, and if you so much as lay a hand on me Here, drop that! Help! Police!"
As I moved towards him, he sprang out of my reach, shouting in a fashion which could not fail to attract attention. Indeed a man, apparently a respectable artisan, who had passed us a few seconds before, turned to look at us.
"What's the matter there?"
Mr. Moore was quite at his ease.
"Nothing—at least, not yet there isn't. But there will be soon, if he so much as lays a finger on me."
The man went on.
"You seem to be a pretty sort of idiot," I observed.
He flicked the ash off his cigar with a jeering laugh.
"We can't all be as wise as you, nor as big. Size goes for something, you great overgrown monster. Barnum's museum is where you ought to be, not walking about the streets."
I hardly knew what to make of him. If I had had him in a room I might have taught him manners; out in the street he had me at an advantage. He was plainly disposed to court, rather than avoid, a public scandal, while I was anything but inclined to find myself an object of
