“And you’re the woman who threw hot water upon me, you old jade!” retorted James, his face black with anger. “I’ve a great mind to wring your neck for you.”
He made a step forward, which alarmed Paul, lest he might proceed to carry out his threat.
“Oho!” laughed Barclay. “The kid is going to defend you.”
“And a fine boy he is!” said Mrs. Hogan. “But don’t you trouble yourself, Number 91. I’m a match for the ould brute any time.”
Mrs. Hogan, standing with her arms akimbo, looked thoroughly fearless and undaunted. She was a powerful woman, and, though James Barclay was of course her superior in physical force, he would not have found her an unresisting victim.
“Why don’t he go away?” was heard in a wailing voice from the bed.
“He is going directly,” answered Ellen Barclay, in a soothing voice.
James Barclay’s brow contracted.
“So you’re sowing mischief between my father and me, my lady!” he said. “Well, it’s just what I expected. But don’t you forget one thing! I’m the rightful heir of that old ninny on the bed there, and if anybody tries to cut me out, he’ll find I’ve got something to say about it.”