"Mur--der!" wailed his wife. "Help! Help!"

Mr. Grummit, changing the stick into his left hand, renewed the attack;
Mrs. Grummit, whose voice was becoming exhausted, sought a temporary
relief in moans.

"Is--he----deaf?" panted the wife-beater, "or wot?"

He knocked over a chair, and Mrs. Grummit contrived another frenzied
scream. A loud knocking sounded on the wall.

"Hel--lp!" moaned Mrs. Grummit.

"Halloa, there!" came the voice of the constable. "Why don't you keep
that baby quiet? We can't get a wink of sleep."

Mr. Grummit dropped the stick on the bed and turned a dazed face to his
wife.

"He--he's afraid--to come in," he gasped. "Keep it up, old gal."

He took up the stick again and Mrs. Grummit did her best, but the heart
had gone out of the thing, and he was about to give up the task as
hopeless when the door below was heard to open with a bang.

"Here he is," cried the jubilant Grummit. "Now!"

His wife responded, and at the same moment the bedroom door was flung
open, and her brother, who had been hastily fetched by the neighbours on
the other side, burst into the room and with one hearty blow sent Mr.