“Don’t you call me names!” yelled the cabman, shaking his fist with the whip in it.

“The man’s drunk,” cried Josh to the little crowd of people that had assembled.  Margaret, overwhelmed with mortification, tugged at his sleeve.  “The man’s not overcharging much—­if any,” she said in an undertone.

“You’re saying that because you hate scenes,” replied Josh loudly.  “You go on into the house.  I’ll take care of this hound.”

Margaret retreated within the parsonage gate; her very soul was sick.  She longed for the ground to open and swallow her forever.  It would be bad enough for a man to make such an exhibition at any time; but to make it when he was about to be married!—­and in such circumstances!—­to squabble and scream over a paltry dollar or so!

“Here’s a policeman!” cried Craig.  “Now, you thief, we’ll see!”

The cabman sprang down from his seat.  “You damn jay!” he bellowed.  “You don’t know New York cabfares.  Was you ever to town before—­ eh?”

Craig beckoned the policeman with vast, excited gestures.  Margaret fled up the walk toward the parsonage door, but not before she heard Craig say to the policeman: 

“I am Joshua Craig, assistant to the Attorney-General of the United States.  This thief here—­” And so on until he had told the whole story.  Margaret kept her back to the street, but she could hear the two fiercely-angry voices, the laughter of the crowd.  At last Craig joined her—­panting, flushed, triumphant.  “I knew he was a thief.  Four dollars was the right amount, but I gave him five, as the policeman said it was best to quiet him.”

He gave a jerk at the knob of parsonage street bell as if he were determined to pull it out; the bell within rang loudly, angrily, like the infuriate voice of a sleeper who has been roused with a thundering kick.  “This affair of ours,” continued Craig, “is going to cost money.  And I’ve been spending it to-day like a drunken sailor.  The more careful I am, the less careful I will have to be, my dear.”

The door opened—­a maid, scowling, appeared.

“Come on,” cried Joshua to Margaret.  And he led the way, brushing the maid aside as she stood her ground, attitude belligerent, but expression perplexed.  To her, as he passed, Craig said:  “Tell Doctor Scones that Mr. Craig and the lady are here.  Has Mr. Arkwright come?”

By this time he was in the parlor; a glance around and he burst out: 

“Late, by jiminy!  And I told him to be here ahead of time.”

He darted to the window.  “Ah!  There he comes!” He wheeled upon Margaret just as she dropped, half-fainting, into a chair.  “What’s the matter, dear?” He leaped to her side.  “No false emotions, please.  If you could weather the real ones what’s the use of getting up ladylike excitement over—­”

“For God’s sake!” exclaimed Margaret, “sit down and shut up!  If you don’t I shall scream—­scream—­scream!”