of it," remarked Green, taking the side of the landlord, and speaking with more gravity than before.
"Hardly an accident," was replied.
"He didn't throw at the girl."
"No matter. He threw a heavy tumbler at her father's head. The intention was to do an injury; and the law will not stop to make any nice discriminations in regard to the individual upon whom the injury was wrought. Moreover, who is prepared to say that he didn't aim at the girl?"
"Any man who intimates such a thing is a cursed liar!" exclaimed the landlord, half maddened by the suggestion.
"I won't throw a tumbler at your head," coolly remarked the individual whose plain speaking had so irritated Simon Slade. "Throwing tumblers I never thought a very creditable kind of argument—though with some men, when cornered, it is a favorite mode of settling a question. Now, as for our friend the land-
