"Shut up? YOU tell me to shut up!"
"Yes."
"Well, I won't. Ruth Armstrong! What do I care for—"
The speech was not finished. Jed had taken one long stride to where Babbitt was standing, seized the furious little creature by the right arm with one hand and with the other covered his open mouth, covered not only the mouth, but a large section of face as well.
"You keep quiet, Phin," he drawled. "I want to think."
Phineas struggled frantically. He managed to get one corner of his mouth from behind that mammoth hand.
"Ruth Armstrong!" he screamed. "Ruth Armstrong is—"
The yell died away to a gurgle, pinched short by the Winslow fingers. Then the door leading to the kitchen, the door behind the pair, opened and Ruth Armstrong herself came in. She was pale and she stared with frightened eyes at the little man struggling in the tall one's clutch.
"Oh, Jed," she breathed, "what is it?"
Jed did not reply. Phineas could not.