Muriel's voice, full of tears, was lifted in expostulation.

"How can you talk of your silly vases when Billie's lost! Billie's been
stolen--and you two men can think of nothing but pot-ter-ree!"

Shaver lifted a startled face to The Hopper.

"Mamma's cwyin'; gwanpa's hurted mamma!"

The strategic moment had arrived when Shaver must be thrust forward as an
interruption to the exchange of disagreeable epithets by his grandfathers.

"You trot right in there t' yer ma, Shaver. Ole Hop ain't goin' t' let 'em
hurt ye!"

He led the child through the dining room to the living-room door and
pushed him gently on the scene of strife. Talbot, senior, was pacing the
floor with angry strides, declaiming upon his wrongs,--indeed, his theme
might have been the misery of the whole human race from the vigor of his
lamentations. His son was keeping step with him, vainly attempting to
persuade him to sit down. Wilton, with a patch over his right eye, was
trying to disengage himself from his daughter's arms with the obvious
intention of doing violence to his neighbor.

"I'm sure papa never meant to hurt you; it was all a dreadful mistake,"
she moaned.

"He had an accomplice," Talbot thundered, "and while he was trying to kill
me there in my own house the plum-blossom vase was carried off; and if