"Yes, sir."
"I think it is time something was done," he added, glancing around the room, apparently in search of some weapon.
"I think so too, and I am going to do something, if need be."
"What are you going to do?"
"If you want to talk, I'll talk. I wish you to understand that I'm just as cool as well-water, and this thing has gone just as far as it's going to."
"What do you mean by that, you scoundrel? What thing?"
"My sister Flora is a poor, weak, sick child. She isn't your servant, nor your wife's servant; and she shall not be kicked round by either one of you. That's all I have to say."
"Who has kicked her round?" growled the captain.
"Mrs. Fishley has done just the same as to kick her. She took her by the arm, dragged her out of her chair, and was shaking her when I stepped in."
I was particular to state the facts thus explicitly, because I did not believe Mrs. Fishley had been careful to include this portion of the affair in her complaint to her husband.