Get them out."
"Oh, if you say so, we'll 'ave 'em out of it in two twos. Alf,
fetch me the spare swingle-bar."
"Don't! You'll knock the paint off the door. Get them out!"
"What the 'ell else am I trying to do for you, lydy?" the man
answered with pathos; but the woman wheeled on her mate.
"Edward! They're all drunk here, and they're all mad there. Do
something!" she said.
Edward took one short step forward, and sighed "Hullo!" in the
direction of the turbulent house. The woman walked up and down,
the very figure of Domestic Tragedy. The furniture men swayed a
little on their heels, and -
"Got him!" The shout rang through all the windows at once. It was
followed by a blood-hound-like bay from Sir Christopher, a
maniacal prestissimo on the organ, and loud cries, for Jimmy. But
Jimmy, at my side, rolled his congested eyeballs, owl-wise.
"I never knew them," he said. "I'm an orphan."
* * * * * * * * *
The front, door opened, and the three came forth to short-lived
triumph.
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