“My behavior to Miss Smith?” shrieked The Author, stamping with fury, “my behavior to Miss Smith?  You had better set about explaining your behavior to Miss Smith!  You’re a rascal, Mr. Jelnik!”

“You, my dear sir, are worse:  you’re an ass,” said Mr. Jelnik, and fetched a sigh of tiredness.  “Would to heaven somebody would fetch you a halter!”

“Jelnik,” choked Doctor Geddes, “a man who behaves as you’re behaving to-night runs the risk of getting himself shot.  You’re my own cousin, but—­”

Mr. Jelnik turned at bay.

“Doctor Geddes,” said he, in a razor-edged voice, “it is no light affliction to be kin to the Hyndses!—­What do you want me to explain?  I have already told you it was necessary for Miss Smith and me to attend to a matter that is none of your business.  In return, you hold us up like brigands.  Would it make a dent in your armor of righteous meddling, if I were to remind you that you are seriously annoying Miss Smith?”

“Not a dent!” roared the doctor.  “And if it annoys Sophy to be asked a straight question by those who have her interest at heart, let her be annoyed and take shame to herself!”

Alicia began to cry.

“Oh, Sophy!” wailed Alicia, “whatever is the matter with us, anyhow?  What is wrong, Sophy?  Why are we quarreling?  What are we quarreling about, Sophy?”

I put my hands to my head.  “I don’t know.  That is.  I can’t tell.  I mean.  I can’t think, at all!

“Doctor Geddes has spoken like an honest man,” said The Author, standing flat-footed in his pointed red shoes.  “Mr. Jelnik, I ask you plainly:  Why do I find Miss Smith here at this hour?  Why and wherefore the mystery?  Let me remind you that I have asked Miss Smith to marry me, and that she hasn’t as yet given me her answer,” he finished, significantly.

“Why, Sophy!” gasped Alicia.  “Why, Sophy Smith!”

“Holy Moses!” gasped Doctor Geddes.  “What, man, you too?  Well, then, if it comes to that, I can call you to account, Jelnik, because I asked Sophy to marry me, too.  In my case she had sense enough to say ‘No’ at once.”

“You know he did, Sophy!” Alicia corroborated him tearfully.  “You told me so yourself, though you never so much as opened your mouth about The Author; and I don’t think that was a bit like you, Sophy.  And why you refused the doctor, I can’t for the life of me imagine!”

“Can’t you?  Well, I can,” snorted the doctor, and drew Alicia closer to him.  She put both her hands around his arm.

“What!” gulped The Author, rocking on his red toes, and wrinkling his nose until his waxed mustache stood out with infernal effect, and his corked eyebrows climbed into his hair.  “What!  You, Geddes?  My sainted aunt!  Why, man alive, I thought that you—­that is I’d have sworn that you—­” Here The Author’s breath mercifully failed him.

I was dumb as a sheep in the hands of the slayers.  I could only blink at these dear people who were tormenting me.  I thought of Jessamine Hynds in her brown silk frock, with the crucifix in her skeleton fingers and the earth fresh over her.  And I couldn’t say a word.  And while I stood thus silent, Mr. Nicholas Jelnik walked up and took my hand in his warm and comforting clasp, and looked at me with kindling, starry eyes, and laughed a deep-chested laugh.