ter,
he waved it up and down three times, saying, "Tchak, tchak, tchak," very
deliberately as he did so. Then with a concluding "Ugh!" and a gesture
of repugnance he passed on into the dining-room from which the voice
of Miss Mergle was distinctly audible remarking that the weather was
extremely hot even for the time of year.

This expression of extreme disapprobation had a very demoralizing effect
upon Hoopdriver, a demoralization that was immediately completed by the
advent of the massive Widgery.

"Is this the man?" said Widgery very grimly, and producing a special
voice for the occasion from somewhere deep in his neck.

"Don't hurt him!" said Mrs. Milton, with clasped hands. "However much
wrong he has done her--No violence!"

"'Ow many more of you?" said Hoopdriver, at bay before the umbrella
stand. "Where is she? What has he done with her?" said Mrs. Milton.

"I'm not going to stand here and be insulted by a lot of strangers,"
said Mr. Hoopdriver. "So you needn't think it."

"Please don't worry, Mr. Hoopdriver," said Jessie, suddenly appearing in
the door of the dining-room. "I'm here, mother." Her face was white.

Mrs. Milton said something about her child, and made an emotional charge
at Jessie. The embrace vanished into the dining-room. Widgery moved as
if to follow, and hesitated. "You'd better make yourself scarce," he
said to Mr. Hoopdriver.

"I shan't do anything of the kind," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with a catching
of the breath. "I'm here defending that young lady."

"You've done her enough mischief, I should think," said Widgery,
suddenly walking towards the dining-room, and closing the door behind
him, leaving Dangle and Phipps with Hoopdriver.

"Clear!" said Phipps, threateningly.

"I shall go and sit out in the garden," said Mr. Hoopdriver, with
dignity. "There I shall remain."

"Don't make a row with him," said Dangle.

And Mr. Hoopdriver retired, unassaulted, in almost sobbing dignity.

XXXIX.

So here is the world with us again, and our sentimental excursion
is over. In the front of the Rufus Stone Hotel conceive a remarkable
collection of wheeled instruments, watched over by Dangle and Phipps in
grave and stately attitudes, and by the driver of a stylish dogcart from
Ringwood. In the garden behind, in an attitude of nervous prostration,
Mr. Hoopdriver was seated on a rustic seat. Through the open window of
a private sitting-room came a murmur of voices, as of men and women in