"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting.

Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and
the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all
haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his
appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter.

"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't
you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called
a man. If my wife was carrying on like this----"

"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips.

Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her.

"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded
gently from the room.

"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large,
hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies."

A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and
communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense
pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what
had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His
companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces,
followed him.

It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They