"What's more, I don't intend to hear nobody laugh. By God! Now I come to think about it, there ain't a-goin' to be no laughing at all around here." Gus continued slowly to swing his head, like a bear. "She's my kid!" He pushed past Mrs. Ring, still muttering, "My kid--there ain't a-goin' to be no laughing at all." Going directly to the desk, he asked for the manager, then stood aside, hat in hand, until the latter made his appearance. The manager began a hasty and rather mixed apology on behalf of the hotel for what had occurred in the dancing room, but his tone of annoyance was an accusation in itself. It was plain that, to his mind, the catastrophe on the eighteenth green outweighed in importance whatever may have led up to it. That was something actually tragic, something frightful, appalling; it involved the good name of the hotel and affected the world's golf title. "Very--unfortunate," he lamented. "We haven't heard the last of it, by any means. McLeod may file a protest. And there is something to be said on both sides; rather a nice question, in fact." "Prob'ly so," the father agreed. "An' I got something to say about it, too. Get that dancin' perfessor off the place quick or I'll kill him." The manager recoiled; his startled eyes searched Briskow's face incredulously. "I--beg pardon?" "I 'ain't heard my kid's side of the story yet, but I'm goin' to see her now, so you better get word to that jumpin' jack in a hurry. That is, if you want to save him." "He is discharged, of course, for we tolerate no rudeness on the part of our employees--or our guests, for that matter; but I believe he is suffering some effects from the shock. I couldn't well ask him to go before--" "It'll take me prob'ly twenty minutes, talkin' to my girl. That'll give him time, if he moves fast. But I may get through in fifteen." At the door to his suite Gus Briskow paused to wipe his countenance clean of the expression it had worn for the last few minutes, and when he entered it was with his usual friendly smile. Allie and her mother were waiting; they were white and silent. Gus kissed his daughter before saying: "Don't worry, honey; he won't bother you no more." Allie averted her face. Mrs. Briskow inquired, "Did you see the skunk?" "No. I give him a few minutes to clear out." "Hadn't we better leave, too?" ventured Allie. "Oh-h!" In Ma's eyes was such bleak dismay, such a piteous appeal, that Gus shook his head. "What fer? We got nice quarters and your ma likes it here--" "They're laughing at me. I heard 'em hollering." "They won't laugh long. No, you're learnin' fast, and we're all havin' a nice time. Only one thing--I'm kinda tired of that Miz' Ring. I let her go, but I'll get you another--" "She quit, eh?" "Um-m, not exactly. I--"