His left sleeve having fallen, he rolled it back, tied the strings of the apron tighter about his plump middle, and advanced to the battle. His hand touched the shoulder of the girl.
"Sally!"
"Shut your face!" moaned a stifled voice.
But he took his courage between his teeth and persisted.
"Sally, somethin' is wrong."
"Nothin' you can right, Fatty," said the same woe-stricken voice.
"Sally, if somebody's been gettin' fresh with you—"
Her arms jerked down; she whirled and faced him with clenched fists; her eyes shining more brightly for the mist which was in them.
"Fresh with me? Why, you poor, one-horned yearling, d'you think there's anybody in Eldara man enough to get fresh with me?"
Bert retreated a step; caution was a moving element in his nature. From a vantage point behind a table, however, he ventured: "Then what is wrong?"