“What's the meaning of this disturbance, gentlemen?” cried Mr. Higgins. “Can't you spend the evening quietly?”
“I'm ashamed of you, Tom!” cried Mr. Tankard.
“The quarrel wasn't of my seeking, guv'nor,” said the young man.
“But it won't end here,” cried Zephyrus, holding a handkerchief to his face.
“I hope it will,” rejoined Higgins.
“Tom,” said his father, sternly, “I insist on your making an apology to Monsieur Zephyrus.”
“I make an apology?” rejoined the youth. “Don't expect it, guv'nor.”
“Nor will I accept an apology,” said Zephyrus. “I will have his life! Sigebert,” he added to the coiffeur, who had entered the room with the others, “you shall be my parrain—my second.”
“With great pleasure,” replied the other.
“If you talk of fighting a duel, I'll have you both bound over to keep the peace,” said Higgins. “But come, we've had quite enough of this nonsense; shake hands like good fellows.”