Peeping so, she grew aware of a stout red-faced woman approaching at a rapid scuttle; and then, almost as the woman reached the door, she saw Hicks at her heels, his face a long figure of dismay. The woman burst into the shop with a rasping shriek. “I want my ’usband!” she screamed. “Where’s my ’usband?” “Come away!” called Hicks, deadly pale, and nervously snatching at her shoulder. “Come away! You know what you promised!” “Take yer ’and auf me, ye long fool! Where’s my ’usband? Is it you what’s got ’im?” She turned on Bessy and bawled the words in her face. “No—no it ain’t!” cried Hicks, near beside himself. “Come away, an’—an’ we’ll talk about it outside!” “Talk! O yus, I’ll give ’im talk!” The woman’s every syllable was a harsh yell, racking to the brain, and already it had drawn a group about the door. “I’ll give ’im talk, an’ ’er too! Would anyone believe,” she went on, turning toward the door and haranguing the crowd, that grew at every word, “as ’ow a woman calling ’erself respectable, an’ keepin’ a shop like any lady, ’ud take away a respectable woman’s ’usband—a lazy good-for-nothin’ scoundril as run away an’ left me thirteen year ago last Whitsun!” Boys sprang from everywhere, and pelted in to swell the crowd, drawn by the increasing screams. Many of the men, who knew the shop so well, stopped to learn what the trouble was; and soon every window in Harbour Lane displayed a woman’s head, or two. “My ’usband! Where’s my ’usband? Show me the woman as took my ’usband!” Nan came and stood in the back parlour doorway, frightened but uncomprehending. The woman turned. “You! You is it?” she shrieked, oversetting a pile of tins and boxes, and clawing the air above her. “Gimme back my ’usband, you shameless creechor! Where ’a’ ye got ’im? Where’s my ’usband?” Hicks put his arm about the woman’s waist and swung her back. He was angry now. “Get out!” he said, “I didn’t bring you to make a row like that! You swore you wouldn’t!” Finding his arm too strong for her, the woman turned on Hicks and set to clawing at his face, never ceasing to scream for her husband. And then Johnny came pushing in at the door, having run from the far street-corner at sight of the crowd. Hicks, as well as he could for dodging and catching at the woman’s wrists, made violent facial signals to Johnny, who stared, understanding none of them. But he heard the woman’s howls for her husband, and he caught at her arm. “Who is your husband?” he said. “What’s his name?” “What’s ’is name? Why Butson—’enery Butson’s ’is name! Gimme my ’usband! My ’usband! Let me go, you villain!” It was like an unexpected blow on the head to Johnny, but, save for a moment, it stunned not at all—rather roused him. “I’ll fetch him!” he cried, and sprang into the house.