“You insufferable, black-livered hound,” came the voice of Algernon Blackstone de Willoughby Winston, “if I catch you sneaking around here again with your knives, I’ll throw you out to the coyotes.”
The dance continued, and only one dancer dropped out. Either they had not heard the disturbance, or else such disturbances were too common to notice. It was, consequently, Rosina Steptoe alone, with face aflame and eyes snapping like two little wells of fire, who signed to her partner and approached the doorway. She was too angry to notice how near Miss Campbell and Elinor were sitting to the open door.
“Tony, how dare you speak to my brother like that,” she hissed into the court. “I told you before I wouldn’t have it.”
“Nonsense, Rosina, your brother deserves a good thrashing for his tricks. I just caught his arm as he was about to throw this dagger into the room.”
“It was only a little joke, Rosy,” whined her brother.
“Joke be hanged,” broke in the Englishman, “how dare you attempt to frighten these ladies by such a joke. Try it again and I’ll keep my word.”
“Don’t you be so interferin’ with the Hawkes family,” cried Rosina shrilly.
Miss Campbell rose. The dance was just reaching a climax with its final right and left all round. She beckoned to the girls.
“If you don’t mind, Mrs. Steptoe, I think we’ll say good-night. We’ve had a long day. The entertainment has been most delightful.”
Rosina became humble under the gaze of the elegant little woman.