omas Jordan.

"What I say," said Dawes, but he hung fire.

Morel was leaning against the counter, ashamed, half-grinning.

"What's it all about?" snapped Thomas Jordan.

"Couldn't say," said Paul, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.

"Couldn't yer, couldn't yer!" cried Dawes, thrusting forward his
handsome, furious face, and squaring his fist.

"Have you finished?" cried the old man, strutting. "Get off about your
business, and don't come here tipsy in the morning."

Dawes turned his big frame slowly upon him.

"Tipsy!" he said. "Who's tipsy? I'm no more tipsy than YOU are!"

"We've heard that song before," snapped the old man. "Now you get off,
and don't be long about it. Comin' HERE with your rowdying."

The smith looked down contemptuously on his employer. His hands, large,
and grimy, and yet well shaped for his labour, worked restlessly. Paul
remembered they were the hands of Clara's husband, and a flash of hate
went through him.

"Get out before you're turned out!" snapped Thomas Jordan.

"Why, who'll turn me out?" said Dawes, beginning to sneer.

Mr. Jordan started, marched up to the smith, waving him off, thrusting
his stout little figure at the man, saying:

"Get off my premises--get off!"

He seized and twitched Dawes's arm.

"Come off!" said the smith, and with a jerk of the elbow he sent the
little manufacturer staggering backwards.

Before anyone could help him, Thomas Jordan had collided with the flimsy
spring-door. It had given way, and let him crash down the half-dozen
steps into Fanny's room. There was a second of amazement; then men and
girls were running. Dawes stood a moment looking bitterly on the scene,
then he took his departure.

Thomas Jordan was shaken and braised, not otherwise hurt. He was,
however, beside himself with rage. He dismissed Dawes from his
employment, and summoned him for assault.

At the trial Paul Morel had to give evidence. Asked how the trouble
began, he said:

"Dawes took occasion to insult Mrs. Dawes and me because I accompanied
her to the theatre one evening; then I threw some beer at him, and he
wanted his revenge."

"_Cherchez la femme!_" smiled the magistrate.

The case was dismissed after the magistrate had told Dawes he thought
him a skunk.

"You gave the case away," snapped Mr. Jordan to Paul.

"I don't think I did," replied the latter. "Besides, you didn't really
want a conviction, did you?"

"What do you think I took the cas