"For Pete's sake!" implored Arthur, feverishly tugging at the
bridle. "Get her out! The old man's liable to get back any minute!--
He won't do a thing to me!"

Missy, then, catching some of his perturbation, slapped with the
reins, stroked Gypsy's neck, exhorted her with endearments and then
with threats. But Gypsy wouldn't budge; she was having, unexpectedly
but ecstatically, the time of her career. Missy climbed down; urged
and cajoled, joined Arthur in tugging at the bridle. Gypsy only
planted her dainty forefeet and continued her repast in a manner not
dainty at all. Missy began to feel a little desperate; that former
fine frenzy, that divine madness, that magnificent tingle of aplomb
and dash, was dwindling away. She was conscious of a crowd
collecting in the doorway; there suddenly seemed to be millions of
people in the store--rude, pushing, chortling phantoms as in some
dreadful nightmare. Hot, prickling waves began to wash over her.
They were laughing at her. Spurred by the vulgar guffaws she gave
another frantic tug--

Oh, dear heaven! The upper air suddenly thickened with sounds of
buzzing conflict--a family of mud-wasps, roused by the excitement,
were circling round and round! She saw them in terrified
fascination--they were scattering!--zizzing horribly, threateningly
as they swooped this way and that! Heavens!--that one brushed her
hand. She tried to shrink back--then gave an anguished squeal.

WHAT WAS THAT? But she knew what it was. In petrified panic she
stood stock-still, rooted. She was afraid to move lest it sting her
more viciously. She could feel it exploring around--up near her hip
now, now crawling downward, now for a second lost in some voluminous