"What—what's all this?" demanded Mr. Vickers, in trembling tones, as he followed his wife inside and closed the door.
He glanced from Selina, who was standing in front of Mr. Tasker in the manner of a small hen defending an overgrown chicken, to Mr. Russell, who was towering above them and trying to reach him.
"What's all this?" he repeated, with an attempt at pomposity.
The disputants all spoke at once: Mr. Russell with an air of jocular ferocity, Miss Vickers in a voice that trembled with passion, and Mr. Tasker speaking as a man with a grievance. Despite the confusion, Mr. Vickers soon learned that it was a case of "two's company and three's none," and that Mr. Russell, after turning a deaf ear to hints to retire which had gradually increased in bluntness, had suddenly turned restive and called Mr. Tasker a "mouldy image," a "wall-eyed rabbit," and divers other obscure and contradictory things. Not content with that, he had, without any warning, kissed Miss Vickers, and when Mr. Tasker, obeying that infuriated damsel's commands, tried to show him the door, had facetiously offered to show that gentleman the wall and taken him up, and bumped him against it until they were both tired.
"Anybody would ha' thought I was hurting 'im by the noise he made," said the impenitent Mr. Russell.
"I—I'm surprised at you, Bill," said Mr. Vickers, nervously.
"Put him outside," cried Selina, stamping her foot.
"You'd better get off 'ome, Bill," said Mr. Vickers, with a persuasive wink.