"You leave me alone, will you? It ain't none of your biz what I do with this here horse." And before the indignant Marjorie could protest he had again laid the whip lash, sharply across the poor animal's back. Then for one moment Marjorie forgot everything--forgot that she was in the streets of a big city--forgot all Aunt Julia's lectures and Elsie's warnings--and with one quick movement she seized the whip handle, trying with all her strength to drag it away from the boy. She was strong, but her antagonist was stronger, and the end of that momentary struggle was a sharp cry of pain from Marjorie, a muttered imprecation from the driver, and in another second he had sprung into his seat, and horse and wagon were clattering away down the street. "Oh, Mademoiselle, Mademoiselle," gasped Hortense, seizing Marjorie's arm, and fairly trembling with fright and horror; "how could you do such a terrible thing? A young lady to fight with a _canaille_! Oh, what will Madame say when she hears?" [Illustration: WITH ONE QUICK MOVEMENT SHE SEIZED THE WHIP HANDLE.--_Page 145._] "He is a wicked, cruel boy," panted Marjorie; "he ought to be arrested. He is killing that poor old horse." "Yes, I know, he is cruel, a beast, but young ladies must not interfere with such things. You might have been hurt. Let us go home quickly; I am near to faint. Thank Heaven no one saw. Madame would never forgive such a disgrace." "But some one ought to interfere," protested Marjorie, her wrath beginning to cool, "and there wasn't anybody else to do it. I would have taken that whip away from him if I could, but he was so strong, and he has hurt my wrist." "Hurt your wrist! Let me see. Ah, but it is red. How could you have held on so tight? Come home quickly, and we will bathe it with arnica. How fortunate that Madame and Mademoiselle Elsie are away! Ah, here comes the young gentleman, Mademoiselle Elsie's friend from the hotel; he must not know that anything is wrong." But Marjorie had no intention of keeping her indignation to herself, and she turned to greet Beverly Randolph with eyes that flashed and cheeks that tingled. "Oh, Mr. Randolph," she exclaimed, as the young man smilingly took off his hat, and paused beside her, "the most dreadful thing has happened. A cruel, wicked boy has been ill-treating a poor old horse. The poor creature had a terribly heavy load, and when he refused to go any further, the boy beat him, and--" "Where is he?" inquired Beverly, his own eyes beginning to flash. "I'll report the case to the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." "He has gone," said Marjorie, regretfully. "He gave the horse a dreadful cut with the whip, and it was so frightened it started, and then he jumped into the wagon and went off. I tried to get the whip away from him, but he was terribly strong, and he hurt my wrist so much I had to let go." Beverly Randolph's face was a mixture of astonishment, amusement and horror.