sound of men apparently in a state of violent
altercation within.

"Git out wid ye, an' look sharp, you spalpeen," cried one of the voices.

"Oh, pray don't--don't fight!" cried a weak female voice.

"No, I won't git out till I'm paid, or carry your bed away with me,"
cried a man's voice, fiercely.

"You won't, eh! Arrah then--hup!"

The last sound, which is not describable, was immediately followed by
the sudden appearance of a man, who flew down the passage as if from a
projectile, and went headlong into the kennel. He was followed closely
by Rooney Machowl, who dealt the man as he rose a sounding slap on the
right cheek, which would certainly have tumbled him over again had it
not been followed by an equally sounding slap on the left cheek, which
"brought him up all standing."

Catching sight at that moment of Mr Hazlit and Aileen, Rooney stopped
short and stood confused.

"Murder!" shrieked the injured man.

"Hooray! Here's a lark!" screamed a small street-boy.

"Go it! Plice! A skrimmage!" yelled another street-boy in an ecstasy
of delight, which immediately drew to the spot the nucleus of a crowd.

Mr Hazlit was a man of promptitude. He was also a large man, as we
have elsewhere said, and by no means devoid of courage. Dropping his
daughter's arm he suddenly seized the ill-used and noisy man by the
neck, and thrust him almost as violently back into the green-grocer's
house as Rooney had kicked him out of it. He then said, "Go in," to the
amazed Rooney, and dragging his no less astonished child in along with
him, shut and locked the door.

"Now," said Mr Hazlit, sitting down on a broken chair in a very shabby
little room, and wiping his heated brow, "what is the meaning of all
this, Mr Timms?"

"Well, sir," answered Timms, with a deprecatory air, "I'm sorry, sir, it
should 'ave 'appened just w'en you was a-goin' to favour me with the
unexpected honour of a wisit; but the truth is, sir, I couldn't 'elp it.
This 'ere sc--man is my landlord, sir, an' 'e _wouldn't_ wait another
day for 'is rent, sir, though I told 'im he was pretty sure o' 'avin it
in a week or so, w'en I 'ad time to c'lect my outstandin' little
bills--"

"More nor that, sur," burst in the impatient and indignant Rooney, "he
would 'ave gone into that there room, sur,--if I may miscall a dark
closet by that name--an' 'ave pulled the bed out from under Mrs Timms,
who's a-dyin', sur, if I 'adn't chanced to come in, sur, an' kick t