Trouble had begun the previous autumn with a lively exchange of notes between them concerning the shooting of woodcock on Mrs. Ascott's side of the boundary. Then Portlaw stupidly built a dam and diverted the waters of Painted Creek. Having been planned, designed, and constructed according to Portlaw's own calculations, the dam presently burst and the escaping flood drowned some of Mrs. Ascott's sheep. Then somebody cut some pine timber on her side of the line and Mrs. Ascott's smouldering indignation flamed. Personally she and Portlaw had been rather fond of one another; and to avoid trouble incident on hot temper Alida Ascott decamped, intending to cool off in the Palm Beach surf and think it over; but she met Portlaw at Palm Beach that winter, and Portlaw dodged the olive branch and neglected her so selfishly that she determined then and there upon his punishment, now long overdue. "My Lord!" said Portlaw plaintively to Malcourt, "I had no idea she'd do such a thing to me; had you?" "Didn't I tell you she would?" said Malcourt. "I know women better than you do, though you don't believe it." "But I thought she was rather fond of me!" protested Portlaw indignantly. "That may be the reason she's going to chasten you, friend. Don't come bleating to me; I advised you to be attentive to her at Palm Beach, but you sulked and stood about like a baby-hippopotamus and pouted and shot your cuffs. I warned you to be agreeable to her, but you preferred the Beach Club and pigeon shooting. It's easy enough to amuse yourself and be decent to a nice woman too. Even I can combine those things." "Didn't I go to that lawn party?" "Yes, and scarcely spoke to her. And never went near her afterward. Now she's mad all through." "Well, I can get mad, too--" "No, you're too plump to ever become angry--" "Do you think I'm going to submit to--" "You'll submit all right when they've dragged you twenty-eight miles to the county court house once or twice." "Louis! Are you against me too?"--in a voice vibrating with reproach and self-pity. "Now, look here, William Van Beuren; your guests _did_ shoot woodcock on Mrs. Ascott's land--" "They're migratory birds, confound it!" "--And," continued Malcourt, paying no attention to the interruption, "you did build that fool dam regardless of my advice; and you first left her cattle waterless, then drowned her sheep--" "That was a cloud-burst--an act of God--" "It was a dam-burst, and the act of an obstinate chump!" "Louis, I won't let anybody talk to me like that!" "But you've just _done_ it, William." Portlaw, in a miniature fury, began to run around in little circles, puffing threats which, however, he was cautious enough to make obscure; winding up with: "And I might as well take this opportunity to ask you what you mean by calmly going off to town every ten days or so and absenting yourself without a word of--" "Oh, bosh," said Malcourt; "if you don't want me here, Billy, say so and be done with it."