Mrs. Slapman was much embarrassed by this painful outbreak.  It was only three weeks ago that M. Bartin had dedicated a new quadrille to her; and but a fortnight since Signor Mancussi had sung four operatic airs gratuitously at one of her musical and dramatic soirees.  But respect for herself and for her guests—­especially for Mr. Overtop, of whose talents she had formed an exalted opinion—­pointed out her path of duty, and she followed it.  She stepped between the two disputants, and cast a look of surprise and regret at each.

“I was hasty,” said Signor Mancussi.

“And I was too impulsive,” said M. Bartin.

“Then, gentlemen, if you would merit my continued friendship, please make up your little difference, by shaking hands.”

They recoiled from the proposition a moment, but, being pushed together by their respective friends from behind, took each other’s right hand, shook it once feebly, and said distinctly, with their eyes, “We shall meet again!”

“Very well done,” said Mrs. Slapman, with the air of an empress, tempered by a charming smile.  “And let us hope that is the end of it.  Now, Mr. Overtop, allow me to offer you some refreshment.”

Mrs. Slapman was in the act of handing a glass of champagne to the favored Overtop, when an unearthly shriek was heard, which startled the steadiest nerves.  This shriek was repeated three times in quick succession, and seemed to come from the sidewalk in front of the house.  There was a general rush to the window; but Wilkeson, Overtop, Maltboy, and Quigg ran for the street at once, surmising the source of the cry.

There stood Captain Tonkins, in the sleigh, leaning against the dashboard, holding in one hand an empty jug, and in the other his whip.  Around the sleigh were a dozen men and boys, who had been convoked by the cry of “FELL’ CITIZENS!” More men and more boys were seen coming in the distance.

As the four lessees of the sleigh approached him, the Captain again yelled, “FELL’ CITIZENS!”

“For heaven’s sake, stop, Captain!” cried Quigg.

A smile of contempt played upon the Captain’s large lips, as, shaking his whip defiantly at the agitated group, he shouted: 

“I—­I know ye.  Don’ think I doknowye.  You’re Mulcahy men, ev’ moth’s sonofye; and you’ve come to this ‘ere meet’n’ to put down free-ee-dom of speech.  But yer carndoit.  ’Peat it, yer ca-arn-doit.  I d’fy ye.  I d’fy ye.”

The Captain was a powerful man; and Quigg, as well as his companions, singly and collectively, shrank from trying physical persuasion on him.  Besides, a crowd of people had gathered, who were greatly enjoying the scene, and desiring its continuance for an indefinite period.

“FELL’ CITIZENS!” continued the Captain, “now these vile tools o’ Mulca-a-hy silenced, warntellye I’m can’date School ’Spector in this ward.  Fuss place, I’m only reg’l can’date.  Secun’ place, I feel great int’st mor’l wants of all your chi-i-ld’n, Masay they are my own child’n, Go’bless’em.  Third place, my dear FELL’ CIT’Z’NS, if yer’ll jess step in ter Phil Rooney’s ’fore ye vote, yer’ll find some whi-i-sky there; and that—­that’s bess arg’ment, after all.”