They heard him clatter down the wooden stairs and throw open the door.
The singing stopped suddenly, but the gramophone continued to bray out its vulgar tune.
They heard Davidson`s voice and then the noise of something heavy falling.
The music stopped.
He had hurled the gramophone on the floor.
Then again they heard Davidson`s voice, they could not make out the words, then Miss Thompson`s, loud and shrill, then a confused clamour as though several people were shouting together at the top of their lungs.
Mrs. Davidson gave a little gasp, and she clenched her hands more tightly.
Dr. Macphail looked uncertainly from her to his wife.
He did not want to go down, but he wondered if they expected him to.
Then there was something that sounded like a scuffle.
The noise now was more distinct.
It might be that Davidson was being thrown out of the room.
The door was slammed.
There was a moment`s silence and they heard Davidson come up the stairs again.
He went to his room.
"I think I`ll go to him," said Mrs. Davidson.
She got up and went out.
"If you want me, just call," said Mrs. Macphail, and then when the other was gone: "I hope he isn`t hurt."
"Why couldn`t he mind his own business?" said Dr. Macphail.
They sat in silence for a minute or two and then they both started, for the gramophone began to play once more, defiantly, and mocking voices shouted hoarsely the words of an obscene song.
Next day Mrs. Davidson was pale and tired.
She complained of headache, and she looked old and wizened.
She told Mrs. Macphail that the missionary had not slept at all; he had passed the night in a state of frightful agitation and at five had got up and gone out.
A glass of beer had been thrown over him and his clothes were stained and stinking.
But a sombre fire glowed in Mrs. Davidson`s eyes when she spoke of Miss Thompson.
"She`ll bitterly rue the day when she flouted Mr. Davidson," she said.
"Mr. Davidson has a wonderful heart and no one who is in trouble has ever gone to him without being comforted, but he has no mercy for sin, and when his righteous wrath is excited he`s terrible."
"Why, what will he do?" asked Mrs. Macphail.
"I don`t know, but I wouldn`t stand in that creature`s shoes for anything in the world."
Mrs. Macphail shuddered.
There was something positively alarming in the triumphant assurance of the little woman`s manner.
They were going out together that morning, and they went down the stairs side by side.
Miss Thompson`s door was open, and they saw her in a bedraggled dressing-gown, cooking something in a chafing-dish.
"Good morning," she called.
"Is Mr. Davidson better this morning?"
They passed her in silence, with their noses in the air, as if she did not exist.
They flushed, however, when she burst into a shout of derisive laughter.
Mrs. Davidson turned on her suddenly.
"Don`t you dare to speak to me," she screamed.
"If you insult me I shall have you turned out of here."
"Say, did I ask M. Davidson to visit with me?"
"Don`t answer her," whispered Mrs. Macphail hurriedly.
They walked on till they were out of earshot.
"She’s brazen, brazen," burst from Mrs. Davidson.
Her anger almost suffocated her.
And on their way home they met her strolling towards the quay.
She had all her finery on.
Her great white hat with its vulgar, showy flowers was an affront.
She called out cheerily to them as she went by, and a couple of American sailors who were standing there grinned as the ladies set their faces to an icy stare.
They got in just before the rain began to fall again.