“Joseph is coming in soon,” said Selina, as her parents moved to the door.  “I’m expecting him every minute.”

“I’ll stop and see ’im,” said Mr. Russell.  “There’s something I want to speak to him about partikler.”

Mr. Vickers gave a warning glance at him as he went out, and trembled as he noted his determined aspect.  In a state of considerable agitation he took hold of his wife by the elbow and propelled her along.

It was a cold night, and a strong easterly wind had driven nearly everybody else indoors.  Mr. Vickers shivered, and, moving at a good pace, muttered something to his astonished wife about “a good country walk.”  They quitted the streets and plunged into dark lanes until, in Mr. Vickers’s judgment, sufficient time having elapsed for the worst to have happened, they turned and made their way to the town again.

“There’s somebody outside our house,” said Mrs. Vickers, who had been in a state of amazed discomfort the whole time.

Mr. Vickers approached warily.  Two people were on the doorstep in the attitude of listeners, while a third was making strenuous attempts to peep through at the side of the window-blind.  From inside came the sound of voices raised in dispute, that of Selina’s being easily distinguishable.

“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.

[Illustration:  “Selina was standing in front of Mr. Tasker in the manner of a small hen defending an overgrown chicken.”]

“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.