my care."

"That, sir, I humbly beg leave to doubt," said Barnabas, his
politeness growing.

"Why--you impudent scoundrel!"

Barnabas smiled.

"Come, take yourself off!" said the gentleman, frowning, "I'll take
care of this lady."

"Pardon me! but I think not."

The gentleman stared at Barnabas through suddenly narrow lids, and
laughed softly, and Barnabas thought his laugh worse than his frown.

"Ha! d' you mean to say you--won't go?"

"With all the humility in the world, I do, sir."

"Why, you cursed, interfering yokel! must I thrash you?"

Now "yokel" stung, for Barnabas remembered his blunt-toed boots,
therefore he smiled with lips suddenly grim, and his politeness grew
almost aggressive.

"Thrash me, sir!" he repeated, "indeed I almost venture to fear that
you must." But the gentleman's gaze had wandered to the fallen girl
once more, and the glow was back in his roving eyes.