“Get out yourself!” thundered Albert Charlton, bursting in at that moment.  “If you don’t get your pack of tomfoolery out of here quick, I’ll get it out for you,” and he bore down on Westcott fiercely.

“I beg pardon, Mr. Charlton.  I’m here to see your sister with her consent and your mother’s, and—­”

“And I tell you,” shouted Albert, “that my sister is a little girl, and my mother doesn’t understand such puppies as you, and I am my sister’s protector, and if you don’t get out of here, I’ll kill you if I can.”

“Albert, don’t be so quarrelsome,” said Mrs. Plausaby, coming in at the instant.  “I’m sure Mr. Westcott’s a genteel man, and good-natured to Katy, and—­”

“Out! out!  I say, confound you! or I’ll break your empty head,” thundered Charlton, whose temper was now past all softening.  “Put your hand on that pistol, if you dare,” and with that he strode at the Privileged Infant with clenched fist, and the Privileged Infant prudently backed out the door into the yard, and then, as Albert kept up his fierce advance, the Privileged Infant backed out of the gate into the street.  He was not a little mortified to see the grinning face of Dave Sawney in the crowd about the gate, and to save appearances, he called back at Albert, who was returning toward the house, that he would settle this affair with him yet.  But he did not know how thoroughly Charlton’s blood was up.

“Settle it?” said Albert—­yelled Albert, I should say—­turning back on him with more fury than ever.  “Settle it, will you?  I’ll settle it right here and now, you cowardly villain!  Let’s have it through, now,” and he walked swiftly at Westcott, who walked away; but finding that the infuriated Albert was coming after him, the Privileged Infant hurried on until his retreat became a run, Westcott running down street, Charlton hotly pursuing him, the spectators running pell-mell behind, laughing, cheering, and jeering.

“Don’t come back again if you don’t want to get killed,” the angry Charlton called, as he turned at last and went toward home.

“Now, Katy,” he said, with more energy than tenderness, as he entered the house, “if you are determined to marry that confounded rascal, I shall leave at once.  You must decide now.  If you will go East with me next week, well and good.  If you won’t give up Smith Westcott, then I shall leave you now forever.”

Katy couldn’t bear to be the cause of any disaster to anybody; and just at this moment Smith was out of sight, and Albert, white and trembling with the reaction of his passion, stood before her.  She felt, somehow, that she had brought all this trouble on Albert, and in her pity for him, and remorse for her own course, she wept and clung to her brother, and begged him not to leave her.  And Albert said:  “There, don’t cry any more.  It’s all right now.  I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.  There, there!” There is nothing a man can not abide better than a woman in tears.