“What are you going to do, Dad?” called Shirley, in alarm.
Mr. Willing vouchsafed no reply.
He walked directly up to Jones, who at that moment was looking the other way. He took him by the arm and swung him about, so that they stood face to face.
As Jones, greatly surprised, would have stepped back, Mr. Willing raised one arm, and deliberately slapped the man across the face.
“Perhaps that will teach you, sir,” he exclaimed, “to let me and mine alone in the future.”
Jones was no coward. He wiped a few drops of blood from his lips, and stepping suddenly forward, aimed a heavy blow at Mr. Willing.
But the latter, in spite of his age, was still agile and strong. He sprang to one side, and avoided the blow, but then, stepping in close, sent his fist into the other’s face with all his power.
Jones struck the sidewalk like a log. His companion took to his heels.
A crowd, attracted by the scuffle, began to gather.
Presently Jones pulled himself together and scrambled to his feet. Mr. Willing still stood with clenched fists and set lips.