"I shall get mine outside."
"What am I to do? I've had none."
"You may thank your precious brat for that, madam. Give oysters to a horse! Oh, my, I'll never get over it!" cried Mr. Smithers.
Wrapping his injured hand in a handkerchief, he rushed from the house, leaving his wife alone with Harold Stamford and Alice Regina.
"What is the matter with pa, ma, dear?" asked Alice.
"Oh, don't bother me," said Mrs. Smithers, swaying herself to and fro in the rocking-chair.
"Wasn't he mad?" remarked Harold. "I never saw him so before. It was all that Tommy's doing, I'll bet."
"Go up to bed, both of you," said Mrs. Smithers.
"I won't for one," exclaimed Alice. "Will you, Harold?"
"Not much," replied the boy.