The queen gave one of her peculiar shrugs.
“Going to break Sam McFaddon,” continued Pinky, her spirits rising under the influence of Norah's treat.
“Soft heads don't often break hard rocks,” returned the woman, with a covert sneer.
“That's an insult!” cried Pinky, on whom the liquor she had just taken was beginning to have a marked effect, “and I won't stand an insult from you or anybody else.”
“Well, I wouldn't if I was you,” returned Norah, coolly. A hard expression began settling about her mouth.
“And I don't mean to. I'm as good as you are, any day!”
“You may be a great deal better, for all I care,” answered Norah. “Only take my advice, and keep a civil tongue in your head.” There was a threatening undertone in the woman's voice. She drew her tall person more erect, and shook herself like a wild beast aroused from inaction.
Pinky was too blind to see the change that had come so suddenly. A stinging retort fell from her lips. But the words had scarcely died on the air ere she found herself in the grip of vice-like hands. Resistance was of no more avail than if she had been a child. In what seemed but a moment of time she was pushed back through the door and dropped upon the pavement. Then the door shut, and she was alone on the outside—no, not alone, for scores of the denizens who huddle together in that foul region were abroad, and gathered around her as quickly as flies about a heap of offal, curious, insolent and aggressive. As she arose to her feet she found herself hemmed in by a jeering crowd.
“Ho! it's Pinky Swett!” cried a girl, pressing toward her. “Hi, Pinky! what's the matter? What's up?”
“Norah pitched her out! I saw it!” screamed a boy, one of the young thieves that harbored in the quarter.