"Hello!" exclaimed Brent. He was quick to see that he and Queenie were in for a row, probably for a row of a decisive sort which would affect both their lives, and he purposely threw as much hearty insolence into his tone as he could summon. "Eavesdropping, eh, Mr. Crood?" Simon withdrew a hand from the sable folds behind him, and waved it in lordly fashion. "I've no words to waste on impudent young fellers as comes from nobody knows where," he said loftily. "My words is addressed to my niece, as I see sitting there, a-deceiving of her lawful rellytive and guardian. Go you home at once, miss!" "Rot!" exclaimed Brent. "She'll go home when she likes--and not at all, if she doesn't like! You stick where you are, Queenie! I'm here." And as if to prove the truth of his words he slipped his right arm round Queenie's waist, clasped it tightly, and turned a defiant eye on Simon. "See that?" he said. "Well! that's just where Queenie stops, as long as ever Queenie likes! Eh, Queenie?" The girl, reddening as Brent's arm slipped round her, instinctively laid her free hand on his wrist. And as he appealed to her he felt her fingers tighten there with a firm, understanding pressure. "That's all right!" he whispered to her. "We've done it, girlie--it's for good!" He looked up at Simon, whose mouth was opening with astonishment. "Queenie's my girl, old bird!" he went on. "She isn't going anywhere--not anywhere at all--at anybody's bidding, unless she likes. And why shouldn't she be here?" It seemed, from the pause that followed, as if Simon would never find his tongue again. But at last he spoke. "So this here is what's been going on behind my back, is it, miss?" he demanded, pointedly ignoring Brent and fixing his gaze on Queenie. "A-carrying on with strangers at my very gates, as you might say, and in public places in a town of which I'm chief magistrate! What sort o' return do you call this, miss, I should like to know, for all that I've done for you? me that's lodged and boarded and clothed you, ever since----" "What have I done for you in return?" demanded Queenie with a flash of spirit. "Saved you the wages of a couple of servants for all these years! But this is the end, if you're going to throw that in my teeth----" Brent drew Queenie to her feet and turned her away from Simon. He gave the big man a look over his shoulder. "That's it, my friend!" he said. "That's the right term--the end! Find somebody else to do your household drudgery--this young lady's done her last stroke for you. And now don't begin to bluster," he added, as Simon, purpling with wrath, shook his fist. "We'll just leave you to yourself." He led Queenie away down a side-path, and once within its shelter, put a finger under her chin, and lifting her face, looked steadily at her. "Look here, girlie," he said. "You heard what I whispered to you just now? 'It's for good!' Didn't I say that? Well, is it?" Queenie managed to get her eyes to turn on him at last.