Challenger, who had half risen with a white frightened look on her face.

"Now," said the landlady, planting her feet wide apart and her hands on her ample hips, "I'd just have ya ta know that I'm not goin' ta stand fer ya snoopin' down inta my cellar and wastin' my good kindlin' wood, and coal, and presumin' ta start up the fire till it's hot 'nuf to roast an ox. Yer lucky ya didn't set fire to the chimbley an' have the hull house ta pay fer in the bargain. I never see such terrible waste in my hull life as I thought I'd die of the heat when I come back to my home. Yar no lady, an' that's a fact, puttin' up yar fool kids to a spite trick like that when my back's turned. Yar codfish aristocracy, that's what ya are, an' I'll have the p'lice onta ya ef I ever ketch ya in a trick like that again. It's housebreakin' I can hold ya fer, good and tight, darin' ta set fut in my cellar an' monkey 'ith my fire. An' all fer spite, jus' because I asked ya fer my rightful money accordin' ta the bargain."

"Stop!" shouted Bob in Mrs. Barkus's large ear. "Don't you dare to talk like that ta my mother!"

Mrs. Barkus had stopped for a breath and a fresh supply of words, but now she turned with blazes in her eyes and made a dive at Bob, bringing down her broad pudgy hands smartly where Bob's mouth had been but a second before. But Bob slid out neatly from under and faced her from the opposite side of the room, his best fighting grin on his impudent young face.

"Robert!" said Mrs. Challenger's distressed voice.

"Hush, Bob!" said Phyllis with a commanding hand upon his shoulder. "Listen, Mrs. Barkus. You needn't talk to my mother about that fire, nor to any of the rest of us. I was the one who made it. My mother has just got home, and she doesn't know anything about it. I understood that we were supposed to have heat when we rented the apartment, and the rooms had been so cold all day that my teeth were chattering. I knew Mother would be home pretty soon, and she was half-sick anyway when she went out, and I felt something must be done. So I went to your door to ask you to please give us more heat, and no one answered, so I went down cellar to see if I could do anything myself, and I found the fire just going out. There was scarcely a spark left, and I did the best I could. You didn't want the fire to go entirely out, did you?"

Mrs. Barkus had faced around toward Phyllis like an old bull that had suddenly been deprived of a red flag and was turning on a new victim. Red eyed and angry, she wagged her head at the frail young girl and roared.

"Want the fire ta go out? I certainly did. What else d'ya 'spose I wasted the hull day fer, takin' the baby ta my sister-in-law's what I don't scarcely speak ta most times, jest ta show ya ya couldn't beat me outta my money and expect heat while yer a doin' it? Ya impertinent huzzy, ya! I'll teach ya ta meddle with my cellars an' my fires. An' I jest came in ta say that unless the money's paid now, right now, I'm goin' fer the p'lice. I got a nephew that's on the force, an' I ken get him right now by phone, an' I'll give ya jest five minutes ta fork over that money."

Mrs. Challenger had risen from the davenport and was holding on to the back to steady herself, and now she spoke. There was something in the clear, distressed tones of her cultured voice that commanded attention even from the angry Barkus woman, and she whirled upon her and listened.

"Mrs. Barkus," the quiet voice said, "I told you last night that you should certainly be paid.