Mrs. Tutts continued to advance and her lips had contracted as though an invisible gathering string had been jerked violently. "You gotta eat them words, Mis' Jackson." Unwavering purpose was in her voice. "I'll have the law on you if you begin a ruckus here." Mrs. Jackson moved to the opposite side of the table. "The law's nothin' to me." Mrs. Tutts went around the table. "I haven't forgot I'm a lady!" Mrs. Jackson quickened her gait. "Everybody else has." Mrs. Tutts also accelerated her pace. "Don't you dast lay hands on me!" Mrs. Jackson broke into a trot. "Not if I can stomp on you," declared Mrs. Tutts as the back fulness of Mrs. Jackson's skirt slipped through her fingers. "What's the use of this? I don't want to fight, Mis' Tutts." Mrs. Jackson was galloping and slightly dizzy. "You will onct you git into it," encouraged Mrs. Tutts, grimly measuring the distance between them with her eye. "You ought to have your brains beat out for this!" On the thirteenth lap around the table Mrs. Jackson was panting audibly. "Couldn't reach yours th'out cuttin' your feet off!" responded Mrs. Tutts, in whose eyes gleamed what sporting writers describe as "the joy of battle." The strength of the hunted hostess was waning visibly. "I've got heart trouble, Mis' Tutts," she gasped in desperation, "and I'm liable to drop dead any jump!" "No such luck." Mrs. Tutts made a pass at her across the table. "This is perfeckly ridic'lous; do you at all realize what you're doin'?" "I won't," Mrs. Tutts spoke with full knowledge of the deadly insult; "I won't until I git a few handfuls of your _red_ hair!" Mrs. Jackson stopped in her tracks and fear fell from her. Her roving eye searched the room for a weapon and her glance fell upon the potted geranium. Mrs. Tutts already had possessed herself of the scissors. "My hair may be red, Mis' Tutts," her shrill voice whistled through the space left by her missing teeth, as she stood with the geranium poised aloft, "but it's _my own_!" Mrs. Tutts staggered under the crash of pottery and the thud of packed dirt upon her head. She sank to the floor, but rose again, dazed and blinking, her warlike spirit temporarily crushed. "There's the door, Mis' Tutts." Mrs. Jackson drew herself up with regal hauteur and pointed. "Now get the hell out of here!" X ESSIE TISDALE'S ENFORCED ABNEGATION