"How dare you knock my husband about!" she screamed, as Mr. Cooper let go and caught her fingers.  "You've hurt him." 

     "Concussion, I think," said Mr. Simpson, with great presence of mind. 

     His wife helped him to a chair and, wetting her handkerchief at the tap, tenderly bathed the dyed head. Mr. Cooper, breathing hard, stood by watching until his wife touched him on the arm. 

     "You come off home," she said, in a hard voice.  "You ain't wanted. Are you going to stay here all night?" 

     "I should like to," said Mr. Cooper, wistfully. 

 Prev. P 11/11