"Come off!" said the smith, and with a jerk of the elbow he sent the
little manufacturer staggering backwards.
Before anyone could help him, Thomas Jordan had collided with the flimsy
spring-door. It had given way, and let him crash down the half-dozen
steps into Fanny's room. There was a second of amazement; then men and
girls were running. Dawes stood a moment looking bitterly on the scene,
then he took his departure.
Thomas Jordan was shaken and braised, not otherwise hurt. He was,
however, beside himself with rage. He dismissed Dawes from his
employment, and summoned him for assault.
At the trial Paul Morel had to give evidence. Asked how the trouble
began, he said:
"Dawes took occasion to insult Mrs. Dawes and me because I accompanied
her to the theatre one evening; then I threw some beer at him, and he
wanted his revenge."
"_Cherchez la femme!_" smiled the magistrate.
The case was dismissed after the magistrate had told Dawes he thought
him a skunk.
"You gave the case away," snapped Mr. Jordan to Paul.
"I don't think I did," replied the latter. "Besides, you didn't really
want a conviction, did you?"
"What do you think I took the case up for?"
"Well," said Paul, "I'm sorry if I said the wrong thing." Clara was also
very angry.
"Why need MY name have been dragged in?" she said.
"Better speak it openly than leave it to be whispered."
"There was no need for anything at all," she declared.
"We are none the poorer," he said indifferently.
"YOU may not be," she said.
"And you?" he asked.
"I need never have been mentioned."
"I'm sorry," he said; but he did not sound sorry.
He told himself easily: "She will come round." And she did.
He told his mother about the fall of Mr. Jordan and the trial of Dawes.
Mrs. Morel watched him closely.
"And what do you think of it all?" she asked him.
"I think he's a fool," he said.
But he was very uncomfortable, nevertheless.
"Have you ever considered where it will end?" his mother said.
"No," he answered; "things work out of themselves."
"They do, in a way one doesn't like, as a rule," said his mother.
"And then one has to put up with them," he said.
"You'll find you're not as good at 'putting up' as you imagine," she
said.
He went on working rapidly at his design.
"Do you ever ask HER opinion?" she said at length.
"What of?"
"Of you, and the whole thing."
"I don't care what her opinion of me is. She's fearfully in love with
me, but it's not very deep."
"But quite as deep as your feeling for her."
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