on high, that I am going to start a rumpus about this atrocity that will rock Branton Hills to its foundations! Who got this young school-girl drunk? I know that Virginia wouldn’t drink that stuff willingly. How could it occur? I pay through taxation for a patrolman in this district; in fact in all districts of this city. What is a patrolman for, if not to watch for just such abominations as this, pray?”
Dr. Wilkins didn’t say, though probably thinking of a rumor that had run around town for a month or two. At this point Virginia, partly conscious, was murmuring:—
“Oh, Norman! Don’t!! I can’t drink it! Oh! I’m so sick!!”
This brought forth all of Nina Adams’ fury instantly.
“Aha! Aha! Norman! So that’s it! That’s Norman Antor, that low-down, good-for-nothing night-owl! Son of our big Councilman Antor. So!! It’s ‘Norman! I can’t drink it’! Tom Wilkins, this thing is going to court!!”
****
About noon of that day, our good doctor, walking sadly along, ran across Mayor Gadsby, in
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