Mariposa’s hand closed on the purse. She would have now paid anything to escape from this hateful scene. At the same moment she heard a door open behind her, a quick step in the hall, and a man suddenly stood beside her at the stair-head. He was in his shirt-sleeves and he had a pen in his hand. The expressman, who had mounted two or three steps, saw him and recoiled, looking startled. “What’s the matter with you?” said the new-comer shortly. “I want my money,” said the man doggedly, but retreating. “Who owes you money? And what do you mean by making a row like this in this house?” “I owe him money,” said Mariposa. “I agreed to pay him a dollar for carrying my things here, and now he wants two and a half and won’t give me my things unless I pay it. But I’ll pay what he wants rather than fight this way.” She was conscious of a slight, amused smile in the very keen and clear gray eyes the man beside her fastened for one listening moment on her face. “Get your dollar,” he said, “and don’t bother any more.” Then in a loud voice down the stairway: “Here, step out and get the trunks and don’t let’s have any more talk about it. Ching,” to the Chinaman, “go out and help that man with this lady’s things.” The Chinaman came forward, still grinning. The expressman for a moment hesitated. “Look here,” said the man in the shirt-sleeves, “I don’t want to have to come downstairs, I’m busy.” The expressman, with Ching behind him, hurried out. Mariposa’s deliverer stood at the stair-head watching them and slightly smiling. Then he turned to her. She was again conscious of how gray and clear his eyes looked in his sunburned face. “I was writing a letter in my room, and I heard the sound of strife long before I realized what was happening. Why didn’t you call me?” “I didn’t know there was any one there,” she answered. “Well, the boys ought to have known. Why didn’t one of you little beggars come for me?” he said to the two boys, who were clambering slowly up the outside of the balustrade staring from the deliverer to the expressman, now advancing up the steps with Mariposa’s belongings. “I liked to see ’em fight,” said the smaller. “I liked it.” “You little scamp,” said the man, and, leaning over the stair-rail, caught the ascending cherub by the slack of his knickerbockers and drew him upward, shrieking delightedly. On the landing he gave him a slight shake, and said: “I don’t want to hear any more of that kind of talk. Next time there’s a fight, call me.” The expressman and Ching had now entered laden with the luggage. They came staggering up the stairs, scraping the walls with the corners of the trunks and softly swearing. Mariposa started for her room, followed by the strange man and the two boys.