"Yes, go take a walk!" said Brandon, echoing his friend's remark. "I'll have you to know, Mrs. B., that this is my house, an' I am master here. My frien' Travers will stay here as long as he pleases."
"That's the talk, Brandon. I knew you weren't under petticoat government. You're too much of a man for that."
"Yesh, I'm too much of a man for that," said Brandon sleepily.
Travers took from his pocket a clay pipe, and, deliberately filling the bowl with tobacco, began to smoke.
As he leaned back in his chair, winking insolently at Mrs. Brandon, the poor woman cried:
"Will no one relieve me from this insolent intruder?"
The words caught the ears of Grit, who entered at this moment.
He looked from one to the other of the two men who sat at his mother's table, and his eyes flashed, and his boyish form dilated with passion.