er pauper.'

'She is not a pauper, and she is not going to the poor-house either,'
Harold exclaimed, while Jerry came in with her _nein, nein, nein_, which
made the bystanders laugh, as Peterkin went on, addressing himself to
Harold:

'You are her champion, hey, and intend to take care of her. Mighty fine,
I'm sure, but hadn't you better fetch back May Jane's pin that you took
at the party.'

'It is false,' Harold cried. 'I never saw the pin, never!' and the hot
tears sprang to his eyes at this unmanly assault.

By this time Peterkin, who felt that everybody was against him, was
swelling with rage, and seizing Harold by the collar, roared out:

'Do you tell me I lie! You rascal! I'll teach you what belongs to
manners!' and he would have struck the boy but for Jerry, who had been
watching him as a cat watches a mouse, and who, raising her war-cry of
'_nein, nein, nein_,' sprang at him like a little tiger, and by the
fierceness of her gestures and the volubility of her German jargon
actually compelled him to retreat step by step until she had him outside
the door, which she barred with her diminutive person. No one could help
laughing at the discomfited giant and the mite of a child facing him so
bravely, while she scolded at the top of her voice.

Peterkin saw that he was beaten and left the house, vowing vengeance
against both Harold and Jerry, if he should ever have it in his power to
harm them.

When he was gone, Frank, who had recovered his composure during the
ludicrous scene, said to those present:

'I would not explain to that brute, but it is not my intention to
trouble the town. I have no more idea who this woman is than you have,
and I'll swear that Peterkin's vile insinuations with regard to her are
false. My brother says he never saw her in his life, and he speaks the
truth. She may have been on Peterkin's boat, but I doubt it. She has
every appearance of a foreigner, and her child'--here Frank's tongue
felt a little thick, but he cleared his throat and went on--'her child
speaks a foreign language--German, they tell me. This poor woman died on
my--or rather my brother's premises. I have consulted with him, and he
thinks as I do, that she should be cared for at our expense. He says,
further, that there is room on the Tracy lot; she is to be buried there.
I shall attend to it at once, and the funeral will take place to-morrow
morning at ten o'clock from this house. What disposition will be made of
th