"It was only an accident, and all the lawyers in Christendom can't
make anything more of it," remarked Green, taking the side of the
landlord, and speaking with more gravity than before.

"Hardly an accident," was replied.

"He didn't throw at the girl."

"No matter. He threw a heavy tumbler at her father's head. The
intention was to do an injury; and the law will not stop to make
any nice discriminations in regard to the individual upon whom the
injury was wrought. Moreover, who is prepared to say that he
didn't aim at the girl?"

"Any man who intimates such a thing is a cursed liar!" exclaimed
the landlord, half maddened by the suggestion.

"I won't throw a tumbler at your head," coolly remarked the
individual whose plain speaking had so irritated Simon Slade,
"Throwing tumblers I never thought a very creditable kind of
argument--though with some men, when cornered, it is a favorite
mode of settling a question. Now, as for our friend the landlord,
I am sorry to say that his new business doesn't seem to have
improved his manners or his temper a great deal. As a miller, he
was one of the best-tempered men in the world, and wouldn't have
harmed a kitten. But, now, he can swear, and bluster, and throw
glasses at people's heads, and all that sort of thing, with the
best of brawling rowdies. I'm afraid he's taking lessons in a bad
school--I am."