"I'm a poor widow woman without protection, and you are ruining the only way I have of making a living." That was enough. He forgot John Moore for a second, and the next moment that worthy was locked in an adjoining room. Here he went into a tirade. Legs forgot the Mis' now and sought him, but the door was locked and bolted. "Git yo things 'n' go nigga!" he cried boldly now, from his safe retreat. "If you had called, or knocked, I would have come and opened the door, as I always do. There was no call for all this!" remonstrated the Mis'. "Don't lock me out, don't lock me out!" Legs raged. "Git yo things and go, dy'e hear," from the retreat. Legs now became angry with the Mis'. "Gimme a dollar Mis' and I'll go. If that thing in the other woom there is running this place, I don't want to stay." "Git yo things 'n' go!" "Gimme a dollar!" "You ought to have known better than to create such a disturbance," the Mis' said. "Gimme a dollar!" from Legs again. "Let's get another drink!" from Toddy. "I've always treated you like a gentleman." "Gimme a dollar!" "Gimme a dollar 'n' a haf!" "What we go'n give you a dollar 'n' a haf fo'?" "I paid room rent in advance last Wednesday." "Now! Here!" cried the Mis', "all of you go to bed and forget this noise." "Ah'm go'n git 'n' officer, and have that long-legged nigga 'rested!" from within. "Go to bed!" from the Mis'. "Go'n have who arrested?" exclaimed Legs, mad all over again. "'F you do'n git out at once, I'm go'n throw you out!" "If I ever get my hands on you again, you old cheap nigga; you old broken nigga; you moochin' piker; you pot a-neck-bone stew!" "Say," cried one of the roomers, just then, "a pair of bulls are coming down the street!" That was the end of it. CHAPTER FOURTEEN _The Disappearing Chin_ Some years before, back in the west, and at the drug store in a little town near which Wyeth owned land, and where, during the cold wint'ry days, the more intelligent and pretentious, as well as argumentative were wont to collect and discuss science, politics and economics, a subject came up one day, that thereafter, became the topic on more than one afternoon's discussion. It concerned chins, and grew out of the presence of an insurance writer, who was booziogically inclined. And, being so, and a man of no great means, if any, it was a puzzle to many how he could get the means to fill up on liquor daily, and pay for it. The occurrence had remained in Wyeth's memory, and, afterwards, he had a new viewpoint in observing people.