Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men held their breath.
“It’s my chair,” she said, gruffly. “I’ve been moved into it.”
“Possession,” said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, “is nine points of the law. I’m here and—”
Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement.
“Get up!” shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. “Get up!”
Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly.
“Let me get up,” said Mr. Todd, panting.
Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter.
“What d’you mean by it?” he demanded. “Are you the master, or ain’t you? A man what can’t keep order in his own house ain’t fit to be called a man. If my wife was carrying on like this——”
“I wish I was your wife,” said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips.