"Stop a minute, Mrs. Fishley," I added.
"You rascal, you!" repeated she, looking first at me, and then at Flora.
"If you put the weight of your little finger on my sister again, I'll tear you in pieces," I continued, with both fists clinched.
"What do you mean, you serpent, you?"
"You touch her again, and you will know what I mean."
"Don't, Buckland, don't," pleaded poor Flora, alarmed by the hostile demonstration before her.
"I should like to know!" cried Mrs. Fishley.
As she did not tell me what she should like to know, I did not tell her. I stood upon the defensive between the virago and my sister's chair.
SHE RUSHED TOWARDS FLORA.—Page [22].