The Major turned to Ruth.
"What is it?" he asked again.
She was silent. Grover repeated his question, addressing Jed this
time.
"Well?" he asked, sharply. "What is the trouble here? What has
that fellow been doing?"
Jed looked down at his wriggling captive. "He's--he's--" he
stammered. "Well, you see, Major, he . . . Hum . . . well, I'm
afraid I can't tell you."
"You can't tell me! What on earth-- Mrs. Armstrong, will you tell
me?"
She looked at him appealingly, pitifully, but she shook her head.
"I--I can't," she said.
He looked from one to the other. Then, with a shrug, he turned to
the door.
"Pardon me for interrupting," he observed. "Good afternoon."
It was Ruth who detained him. "Oh, please!" she cried, involuntarily.
He turned again.
"You wish me to stay?" he asked.
"Oh--oh, I don't know. I--"
She had not finished the sentence; she was falteringly trying to
finish it when Mr. Babbitt took the center of the stage. Once more
he managed to free himself from Jed's grip and this time he darted
across the shop and put the workbench between himself and his enemy.
"I'll tell you what it is," he screamed. "I've found out some
things they don't want anybody to know, that's what. I've found
out what sort of folks they are, she and her brother. He's a
common-- Let go of me! By--"
The scream ended in another mumble.
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