"Go away!" roared my distracted George.

"Eh?" inquired the old gentleman, horribly startled.

"Go away! Go away!"

The fire of those baleful eyes, of that bellowing voice, struck terror
into the aged heart. He clutched his stick.

"Oh dear, oh dear," said he; hobbled away at a speed dangerous to his
life and limbs to seek protection of a park-keeper.

The sobs grew longer, less hysterical: changed into long "ohs" of
misery; died away.

"There, there," said George, patting, dabbing. "There, there."

With a final frantic sniff she recovered her self-possession.

"I'm a little f--fool," said she.

"I'm a brute," said George.

The bitter knowledge nerved each to better efforts. Calm reigned.

Mary said, "Now you must listen and believe, dear."

"Let me have your hand, then."