"Put them things back, Sally! Do you 'ear me? I aint going to be made a fool of."
Probably Mrs. Johnstone was not so sure. She burst into tears and flung her arms round the Alderman's neck.
"There! what's there to cry about?" said he, drawing her on to his knee.
While the Mayor was still in the shop, James Roberts had gone home to his midday meal. He ate it with good appetite, not knowing who had paid for it, and not noticing his wife's terror lest he should ask her. After the meal he went to his study and read some of Dale's poetry, declaiming it loudly and with fury, while Ethel listened with the horror that had begun to gain on her increasing and increasing as she listened. She was afraid of him now—afraid most for him, but also for the child and herself; and she thanked Heaven every time he went out peacefully, and again when he came back unhurt.
It was about four when the Doctor took his hat and walked down the street to resume his patrol. To his amazement, the window was bare, the books gone, the placards and posters all torn down. With an oath he rushed into the shop, and found the Alderman sitting behind a pile of volumes, on the top of which lay an envelope addressed to himself.
"What's the meaning of this?" gasped the Doctor, and as he spoke the glass door which led to the parlor opened a little way.
"It means, Doctor, that I've had enough of it."
"Enough of it?"
"Yes. Mr. Bannister aint done me any 'arm, and I'm not going to fret him any more."
"You scoundrel!" shrieked the maddened man; "you thief! you took my money—you——"