Muldoon wriggled in a desperate effort to explain; and then he stiffened in Wint’s arms, and turned toward the door with hackles rising. Wint looked that way and saw Mrs. Moody, panting with the zeal of her pursuit. The virago came in; she bore a stick of firewood in one harsh hand; she made for Muldoon, and her old lips dripped blistering abuse. Wint drew Muldoon close in his arms and held up a protesting hand. “Wait a minute, wait a minute!” he warned her. “What’s the matter?” She smiled mirthlessly, brandishing her billet and reaching for Muldoon’s scruff. “I’m a-goin’ to whale that pup, deary,” she told Wint. “He’s been around here all morning.” Wint hugged Muldoon closer. “Of course,” he said, “he knew I was here.” She looked puzzled. “He ain’t your’n, is he?” “Sure,” Wint told her. “He’s some dog, too.” The woman’s anger vanished. “Well, say now, if I’d a knowed that....” She laughed, her desolately beautiful false teeth glistening between her wrinkled lips. “He’s drove my dog crazy. He come around here before day, and Jim heard him and tried to get out. Woke me up. I drove this one away; but he came back. Jim got out once, and they had it till I broke ’em up. And then a minute ago, Jim got out again, and when I went after ’em with this stove wood, that’n of your’n slipped by me and in and up th’ stairs.” Wint rubbed Muldoon’s head proudly. “He must have tracked me, found me out somehow,” he explained. “I left him locked up. Hope he didn’t hurt your....” “Oh, Jim c’n take care of hisself. If he can’t, he’ll have t’ look out.” She looked around the room curiously. “You had callers last night. D’ye remember?” Wint nodded, bending over the dog. “Yes--I remember.” The woman studied him. “Thought mebbe you was too far gone to know anythin’....” She waited for Wint to speak; but Wint volunteered nothing, so she remarked: “I see th’ lamp got broke.” “I’ll pay for it,” Wint told her. She nodded. “That’s all right. All in the bill. You must’ve been tickled to hear about bein’ elected.” Wint said nothing. The woman laughed harshly. “Never had a Mayor of Hardiston in my hotel before. Had some sheriffs, and a marshal now ’nd then. But no Mayor!” She shook with mirth at the thought. “I d’clare, I’ll have t’ raise my rates.” Wint looked at her steadily, with expressionless eyes. He was fighting to hide the humiliation which was stinging him; and he succeeded. His silence at last frightened the woman; she backed toward the door, babbling broken sentences. Only when she was in the hall, with an avenue of flight open to her, did she recover herself. “But I s’pose you’ll forgit old friends, now that you’re Mayor, deary,” she told him. Wint smiled bleakly. “Don’t count on it,” he said. She seemed uncertain whether to take this as a threat or reassurance. “I was always a good friend to you,” she reminded him. He nodded. “Yes--you’ve been consistent, at least.”