His voice died away regretfully, as the one with the stocking,
whose hair had been clutched from behind by another Amazon, was
whirled about in a dizzy semicircle.

Vainly Mary clung to his arm, shaking him back and forth and
remonstrating.

"Can't you be sensible?" she cried. "It's awful! I tell you it's
awful!"

But Bert was irrepressible.

"Go it, old girl!" he encouraged. "You win! Me for you every
time! Now's your chance! Swat! Oh! My! A peach! A peach!"

"It's the biggest rough-house I ever saw," Billy confided to
Saxon. "It sure takes the Micks to mix it. But what did that dude
wanta do it for? That's what gets me. He wasn't a bricklayer--not
even a workingman--just a regular sissy dude that didn't know a
livin' soul in the grounds. But if he wanted to raise a
rough-house he certainly done it. Look at 'em. They're fightin'
everywhere."

He broke into sudden laughter, so hearty that the tears came into
his eyes.

"What is it?" Saxon asked, anxious not to miss anything.

"It's that dude," Billy explained between gusts. "What did he
wanta do it for? That's what gets my goat. What'd he wanta do it