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the damage his daughter done in my cellar this morning. I'm takin' this here clock right now. See?" And she reached up a strong hand and took firm hold of the clock.
    But suddenly a stronger hand reached out and grasped her wrist in such a viselike grip that it became powerless.
    The woman turned in fury and faced the big butcher from across the next corner. He lived over his store, and Bob, in his distress, had rushed for his friend, who did not delay to come at once.
    "What are you trying to do, Mrs. Barkus?" asked Butcher Brady, looking as severe as his round, good-natured face could. "That ain't your clock, is it?"
    "You lemme alone!" snarled Mrs. Barkus, trying her best to get her pudgy wrist away from the big grasp. "Don't ya dare ta lay a finger on me, ur I'll have ya arrested fer salt and battry."
    "Look here, lady, I got a lot more on you than you ever could prove against me. I'm merely trying to protect the property of these people, and what's more, there'll be a cop here in about five jerks of a lamb's tail, for I told my wife to call one. If you wantta get this good and straightened out before he comes, all righty. It won't take long. Just you drop your hand down at your side like a lady and tell me what this is all about."
    "I don't have ta tell ya, ya impertinent meat chopper, ya, but I don't mind ya nor a policeman, neither. I'm on my rights. These here folks owe me money, and they've promised and promised to pay and they won't do it, and they're eatin' sirloin steaks and livin' on the fat o' the land, and me starvin' away an' givin' 'em house room--"
    "You needn't go into particulars. How much rent do they owe you?"
    "It's thirty-five dollars rent fer last month and fifteen fer the damage they done in the cellar this morning."
    "Aw, gee!" murmured Bob loudly.
    The butcher eyed Bob and swept a quick look around the room, his glance coming to rest on Phyllis's face.
    "Damage? What damage?" he asked and waited for her to speak.
    "I made a fire," said Phyllis. "I chopped up two old boxes and put on ten shovels full of coal. Mrs. Barkus had gone away for the day and let the fire go out. My mother was coming home in the rain, and I was afraid she would be sick."
    "Doesn't your lease allow for heat?" asked the butcher keenly.
    "Not heat like this!" snapped Mrs. Barkus.
    "Yes," said Phyllis, "but we've hardly ever had it. It's never been really comfortable, and sometimes the register is perfectly cold."
    "I can't furnish heat when I don't get my pay," whined Mrs. Barkus.
    "Well, if you're that bad off, perhaps we better let you have the money tonight," said Brady, suddenly digging down in his wide pocket and bringing out a fistful of bills. He counted out thirty-five.
    "I'd sooner Mrs. Challenger should be owing me than you," he said with a kindly look toward the lady and handed the money to the Barkus woman, who grabbed greedily and began to count.
    "But how about my damages?" she asked.
    "Nothing doing!" said the butcher with a laugh. "It was up to you to furnish heat, and when you went off and let the fire go out, the young lady had a perfect right to look after the fire. I think you are fortunate she didn't sue you for damages instead. Look at that lady there; she looks sick enough to be in bed, and you making all this rumpus!"
    Then, just as he spoke, Mrs. Challenger swayed, losing her hold of the davenport, and slipped down again in a little limp heap on the floor.
    The butcher sprang, picked her up, and laid her down on the old davenport as gently as if she had been a baby.
    "You girls get some water!" he said. "Bob, you go for Dr. Babcock. Barkus, you better get outta here in case she comes to. You've done enough damage for one night. You might have a case of manslaughter on yer hands if you keep this up long."
    "If she goes and dies on me, that'll be the last straw!" whimpered Barkus.
    "Get out!" shouted the butcher. "There come them cops. Wantta go and let 'em in, ur shall I send 'em away?"
    Mrs. Barkus