may have led
up to it. That was something actually tragic, something frightful,
appalling; it involved the good name of the hotel and affected the
world's golf title.

"Very--unfortunate," he lamented. "We haven't heard the last of it, by
any means. McLeod may file a protest. And there is something to be said
on both sides; rather a nice question, in fact."

"Prob'ly so," the father agreed. "An' I got something to say about it,
too. Get that dancin' perfessor off the place quick or I'll kill him."

The manager recoiled; his startled eyes searched Briskow's face
incredulously. "I--beg pardon?"

"I 'ain't heard my kid's side of the story yet, but I'm goin' to see
her now, so you better get word to that jumpin' jack in a hurry. That
is, if you want to save him."

"He is discharged, of course, for we tolerate no rudeness on the part
of our employees--or our guests, for that matter; but I believe he is
suffering some effects from the shock. I couldn't well ask him to go
before--"

"It'll take me prob'ly twenty minutes, talkin' to my girl. That'll give
him time, if he moves fast. But I may get through in fifteen."

At the door to his suite Gus Briskow paused to wipe his countenance
clean of the expression it had worn for the last few minutes, and when
he entered it was with his usual friendly smile. Allie and her mother
were waiting; they were white and silent. Gus kissed his daughter
before saying:

"Don't worry, honey; he won't bother you no more."

Allie averted her face. Mrs. Briskow inquired, "Did you see the skunk?"

"No. I give him a few minutes to clear out."

"Hadn't we better leave, too?" ventured Allie.

"Oh-h!" In Ma's eyes was such bleak dismay, such a piteous appeal, that
Gus shook his head.

"What fer? We got nice quarters and your ma likes it here--"

"They're laughing at me. I heard 'em hollering."

"They won't laugh long. No, you're learnin' fast, and we're all havin'
a nice time. Only one thing--I'm kinda tired of that Miz' Ring. I let
her go, but I'll get you another--"

"She quit, eh?"

"Um-m, not exactly. I--"

"I don't blame her. I've been mighty mean. But I couldn't help it, pa.
When you put a wild horse in a pen, it don't do to prod him and throw
things and--That's what they've done to me. I bite and kick like any
bronc. When you're hurt, constant, you get spells when you've got to
hurt back. I've been rotten to her, and now this coming on top of it--"

"Wha'd that dancin' dud