distressed. She scarcely took notice of us, but poured forth a long
flow of rhetoric interspersed with sobs for breath. I could see
Fred chuckling as he listened. All the facial warnings that a dozen
men could make at the woman from behind Fred's back could not check
her from telling all she knew.

Nor were Will and I, who knew no Armenian, kept in doubt very long
as to the nature of her trouble. We heard another woman's voice,
behind two or three sets of curtains by the sound of it, that came
rapidly nearer; and there were sounds of scuffling. Then we
heard words.

"Please play that tune again, whoever you are! Do you hear me?
Do you understand?"

"Boston!" announced Will, diagnosing accents.

"You bet your life I understand!" Fred shouted, and clanged through
half a dozen bars again.

That seemed satisfactory to the owner of the voice. The scuffling
was renewed, and in a moment she had burst through the crude curtains
with two women clinging to her, and stood there with her brown hair
falling on her shoulders and her dress all disarrayed but looking
simply serene in contrast to the women who tried to restrain her.
They tried once or twice to thrust her back through the curtain,
although clearly determined to do her no injury; but she held her
ground easily. At a rough guess it was tennis and boating that had
done more for her muscles than ever strenuous housework did for the
Armenians.