"I shall do nothing of the sort."
"Then I must do it for you," said Naomi, firmly.
"Do," said Gilroy. And diving his hands deep into his cross-pockets, he swaggered off the scene with his horse at his heels and his arm through the reins.
"I think I can guess the kind of thing, Miss Pryse," Tom Chester waited to say; "you needn't trouble to tell me, thank you." A moment later he had followed the manager, and the piano-tuner was following Tom; but Naomi Pryse remained where she was. She had not lifted a finger to prevent the fight which, as she saw for herself, was a good deal more imminent than he had imagined who warned her of it five minutes before.
"Will you take off your coat?" said Chester, as he caught up to Gilroy between homestead and stables.
"Is it likely?" queried Gilroy, without looking round.
"That depends whether you're a man. The light's the same for both. There are lanterns in the stables, whether or no. Will you take off your coat when we get there?"
"To you? Manager and overseer? Don't be a fool, Tom."
"I'll show you who's the fool in a brace of shakes," said Tom Chester, following Gilroy with a swelling chest. "I never thought you had much pluck, but, by God, I don't believe you've got the pluck of a louse!"