!" said the artist, pursuing his work. "Fine day
for our business--uncommon spring-like. You've got a gay old lot of
ancestors here, and ancestresses; and stunningly handsome some of 'em
is, too."

"Spare your compliments, sir," said the baronet, in tones of suppressed
rage, "and spare me your presence here for the future altogether! The
sooner you pack your traps and leave this, the surer you will be of
finding yourself with a sound skin."

"Hey?" cried Mr. Parmalee, astounded. "What in thunder do you mean?"

"I mean that I order you out of my house this instant, and that I'll
break every bone in your villainous carcass if ever I catch you inside
my gates again!"

The artist dropped his tools and stood blankly staring.

"By ginger! Why, Sir Everard Kingsland, I don't understand this here!
You told me yourself I might come here and take the pictures. I call
this doosed unhandsome treatment--I do, going back on a feller like
this!"

"You audacious scoundrel!" roared the enraged young lord of Kingsland,
"how dare you presume to answer me? How dare you stand there and look
me in the face? If I called my servants and made them lash you outside
the gates, I would only serve you right! You low-bred, impertinent
ruffian, how dare you write to my wife?"

"Whew!" he whistled, long and shrill, "that's it, is it? Look here,
Sir Everard, don't you get so tearin' mad all for nothing. I didn't
write no disrespect to her ladyship--I didn't, by Jupiter! I jest had
a little request to make, and if I could have seen her ladyship I
wouldn't have writ at all, but she kept out of my way, and--"

"You scoundrel!" cried the passionate young baronet, white with fury,
"do you mean to say my wife kept out of your way--was afraid of you?"

"Exactly so, squire," replied the imperturbable foreigner. "She must
'a' known I had something to say to her yesterday when I---- Well, she
knowed it, and she kept out of my way--I say it again."

"And you dare tell me there is a secret between my wife and you? Are
you not afraid I will throw you out of yonder window?"

Mr. Parmalee drew himself stiffly up.

"Not if I know myself! That is a game two can play at. As for the
secret," with a sudden sneer, "I ain't no desire to keep it a secret if
your wife ain't. Ask her, Sir Everard, and if she's willing to tell
you, I'm sartin I am. But I don't think she will, by gosh!"

The sneering mockery of the last taunt was too much for th