"What's the matter, Simeon?" she cried.
"Jed's killing me!" called out Fogson in muffled tones.
"You don't mean to say you ain't a match for that boy!" ejaculated Mrs. Fogson scornfully. "I'll come up and help you."
Disregarding her light attire she hurried up stairs, and was astonished beyond measure when she saw how unceremoniously her husband was being handled. She rushed to seize Jed, when she found her hands clutching a mustache.
"Why, it ain't Jed!" she screamed in dismay.
"No, it ain't Jed," said the intruder. "Did you mean that soaking for Jed, whoever he is?"
"Yes, yes, it was—quite a mistake!" gasped Fogson.
"I am glad to hear you say so, for I meant to fling you down stairs, and might have broken your neck."
"Oh, what a dreadful man!" ejaculated Mrs. Fogson. "How came you here and where is Jed?"