“I’m not trying to bluff you,” he protested. “I’m simply asking you to think. You can think, can’t you? If you can’t think here with all this noise going on, come into the parlour. We can talk it all over quietly and—why, great Scott, I don’t want to kill anybody!” Noting an abrupt change in the attitude of the men, who found some encouragement in his manner, he added hastily, “Unless I have to, of course. Here, you! Don’t get up!” The command was addressed to Fairfax. “I’d kind of like to take a shot at you, just for fun.”
“Harvey,” said his wife, quite calmly, “if 167 you don’t put that thing in your pocket and go away I will have you locked up as sure as I’m standing here.”
“I ask you once more to come into the parlour and talk it over with me,” said he, wavering.
“And I refuse,” she cried, furiously.
“Go and have it out with him, Nellie,” groaned Fairfax, lifting his head above the edge of the table, only to lower it instantly as Harvey’s hand wabbled unsteadily in a sort of attempt to draw a bead on him.
“Well, why don’t you shoot?” demanded Nellie, curtly.
“No! No!” roared Fairfax.
“No! No!” shrieked the women.
“For two cents I would,” stammered Harvey, quite carried away by the renewed turmoil.
“You would do anything for two cents,” said Nellie, sarcastically.