This was a keener thrust than Hillyer had any intention of delivering, provoked though he was by Huntington's behavior; for Seth had not included in his narrative any reference to the affair at the post-office, or to Haig's visit to his house. Huntington's face became purple; and if he had been apoplectic in disposition he would surely have suffered a seizure in that moment of choking rage. "I'll go there right enough!" he bellowed. "I'll go, when I get ready. I'll go when he's able to stand up and take what's coming to him. As for her--you can take her things, and her trunks too, while you're about it." Hillyer gazed at him dumbfounded for just a breath of time. Then his own face flamed. "Quite right, Mr. Huntington!" he said, taking a step toward him. "I haven't seen much of Haig, but from what I've seen of you, I think his house can be no worse place for Miss Gaylord than yours. What's more, you're an--" He caught himself, whirled on his heel, and addressed Claire. "May I ask you, please, to pack Marion's trunks. I'll attend to mine." Claire had stood quite silent, with her blue eyes opening wider and wider, for the moment helpless, but trusting more to Hillyer's resources of diplomacy than to her husband's self-control. Now her face crimsoned with mortification, and she stood up with all the inches of her five foot two. "You'll do no such thing!" she cried, and one little heel came down on the floor with a jolt. "The idea! The very idea! Oh!" For a moment she stood poised, like a butterfly in a rage, if one can imagine it; then she tripped straight to Huntington, clasped the lapels of his coat, and drew herself up on tiptoes, trying to meet his eyes. "Aren't you ashamed of yourself?" she cried. "No, I'm not!" he growled. But he was, or at least was dimly conscious of his egregious misbehavior; for he looked neither at Hillyer nor his wife, and was red now where he had been purple. "But you are, though!" She turned her face toward Hillyer, without loosing her hold on Seth's coat. "Don't you mind him, Mr. Hillyer! He's just a big bear. And Haig has been a trial to us. Marion's my guest, and--" She looked up into Seth's beard again--"If you think you're going to send her away like this--" She stopped short, as on a sudden thought, and then, with a giggle, buried her face in his flannel shirt. And the next thing, as unexpected as her blue-eyed rage, she dropped her hands from his coat, stooped to catch up the hem of her skirt between thumb and forefinger of each hand, and began to pirouette around the room. "Oh, ho!" she exclaimed, laughing triumphantly, her little body swaying as she tripped, with low curtsies to Seth and Hillyer, who for the moment forget their animosity in wonder at this feminine diversion. "Beautiful! Gorgeous! Oh, splendid!"