Whelply, the arbitrator.

"Oh, look at the pout on him! What a naughty boy! If you don't take
care, I'll put a worse task on you!"

Larry, oblivious of the dunce's cap, feeling himself in the grip of a
social machine that was too strong for him, looked round upon the
company. Hot, pink faces, shining eyes and teeth, Moenad hair, on all
sides. Then he caught sight of Tishy's eyes, scornful and amused,
regarding him as he stood irresolute, and his spirit responded to the
spur of contempt. He crossed the open space of floor to where she was
seated on the blue rep sofa, took off the dunce's cap with a flourish,
and, with a low bow, offered her his arm.

A chorus of approval, weighted by the Big Doctor's big laugh, greeted
the action. Tishy, cornered, accepted the arm, the door was swung open
for them, and ostentatiously slammed behind them.

Larry, silent, and very angry, mounted the stairs quickly, and Tishy
perforce, her hand gripped by his elbow, followed him. At the highest
step but one, Larry stood aside, and Tishy ascended, and turning,
faced him from the top. They looked at each other for a moment in
silence. Both were furiously angry, resenting the compulsion that had
forced them into an absurd position.

Then Tishy said insolently: "Well! Which will you have? My shoe-buckle
or my lips? Take your choice!"

She poked her foot out over the edge of the step confidently.