"That will be quite enough, Harry," said I. "Come, now, I'll take you
home. Sanderson, go get his horse or wagon, or whatever brought him
here."

"Not home!" cried Harry. "First inflict punishment on you for denyin'
Miss Gracie Sheraton pretties' girl whole C'fedrate States America.
Girls like John Cowles too much! Must mash John Cowles! Must mash John
Cowles sake of Gracie Sheraton, pretties' girl in whole wide worl'!"

He came toward me as best he might, his hands clenched. I caught him by
the wrist, and as he stumbled past, I turned and had his arm over my
shoulder. I admit I threw him rather cruelly hard, for I thought he
needed it. He was entirely quiet when we carried him into the room and
placed him on the leather lounge.

"By Jove!" I heard a voice at my elbow. "That was handsomely
done--handsomely done all around."

I turned to meet the outstretched hand of my new friend, Gordon Orme.

"Where did you learn the trick?" he asked.

"The trick of being a gentleman," I answered him slowly, my face red
with anger at Singleton's foolishness, "I never learned at all. But to
toss a poor drunken fool like that over one's head any boy might learn
at school."

"No," said my quasi-minister of the gospel, emphatically, "I differ with
you. Your time was perfect. You made him do the work, not yourself. Tell