"Oh, Jerry, I did—I tried to, but you—" Cordelia was red with shame.
"The hell you did! Wasn't I—"
"Here!" said Mr. Fletcher; "you can't swear at this lady."
"Why wouldn't I?" Jerry asked. "What would you do?"
"He's right, Jerry. Leave him be—see?" said the chorus of Jerry's friends.
"A-a-a-h!" snarled Jerry. "Let him leave me be, then. Cordelia, I heard you was a dead fraud, an' now I know it, and I'm a-tellin' you so, straight—see? I was a-waitin' 'cross der street, an' I seen you come out an' meet dis mug, an' you never turned yer head to see was I on me post. I seen dat, an' I'm a-tellin' yer friend just der kind of a racket you give me, der same's you've give a hundred other fellers. Den, if he likes it he knows what he's gittin'."
Jerry was so angry that he all but pushed his distorted face against that of the humiliated girl as he denounced her. Mr. Fletcher gently moved her backward a step or two, and advanced to where she had stood.
"That will do," he said to Jerry. "I want no trouble, but you've said enough. If there's more, say it to me."
"A-a-a-h!" exclaimed the gilly, expectorating theatrically over his shoulder. "Me friends is on your side, an' I ain't pickin' no muss wid you. But she's got der front of der City Hall to do me like she done. And say, fellers, den she was goin' ter give me a song an' dance 'bout lookin' fer me. Ba-a-a! She knows my 'pinion of her—see?"
The crowd parted to let Mr. Fletcher finish his first evening's gallantry to a lady by escorting Cordelia to her home. It was a chilly and mainly a silent journey. Cordelia falteringly apologized for Jerry's misbehavior, but she inferred from what Mr. Fletcher said that he did not fully join her in blaming the angry youth. Mr. Fletcher touched her fingertips in bidding her good-night, and nothing was said of a meeting in the future. Clarice was forgotten, and Cordelia was not only herself again, but quite a miserable self, for her sobs awoke the little brother and sister who shared her bed.