"I shouldn't get it if 'e did," said Mr. Russell, virtuously.
"Whose beer is it, then?" said Selina.
"Why, Bill's, I s'pose; how should I know?" replied Mr. Vickers.
"Yes, it's mine," said Mr. Russell.
"Drink it up, then," commanded Miss Vickers, sternly.
Both men started, and then Mr. Russell, bestowing a look of infinite compassion upon his unfortunate friend, raised the mug obediently to his sensitive lips. Always a kind-hearted man, he was glad when the gradual tilting necessary to the occasion had blotted out the picture of indignation which raged helplessly before him.
"I 'ope you're satisfied now," he said severely to the girl, as he turned a triumphant glance on Mr. Vickers, which that gentleman met with a cold stare.
Miss Vickers paid no heed. "You get off home," she said to her father; "I'll see to the Horse and Groom to-morrow."
Mr. Vickers muttered something under his breath, and then, with a forlorn attempt at dignity, departed.
Miss Vickers, ignoring the remarks of one or two fathers of families who were volunteering information as to what they would do if she were their daughter, watched him out of sight and resumed her walk. She turned once or twice as though to make sure that she was not observed, and then, making her way in the direction of Mr. Chalk's house, approached it cautiously from the back.