At Sunwich Port, Complete. William Wymark Jacobs

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ his way.

      “Who’s afraid to answer me for fear my father will thrash him?” cried the disappointed lady, raising her voice.

      This was too much. The enemy retraced his steps and came up to the gate.

      “You’re a rude little girl,” he said, with an insufferably grown-up air.

      “Who had his hair pulled?” demanded Miss Nugent, capering wildly; “who had his hair pulled?”

      “Don’t be silly,” said Master Hardy. “Here.” He put his hand in his pocket, and producing some nuts offered them over the gate. At this Miss Nugent ceased her capering, and wrath possessed her that the enemy should thus misunderstand the gravity of the situation.

      “Well, give ‘em to Jack, then,” pursued the boy; “he won’t say no.”

      This was a distinct reflection on Jack’s loyalty, and her indignation was not lessened by the fact that she knew it was true.

      “Go away from our gate,” she stormed. “If my father catches you, you’ll suffer.”

      “Pooh!” said the dare-devil. He looked up at the house and then, opening the gate, strode boldly into the front garden. Before this intrusion Miss Nugent retreated in alarm, and gaining the door-step gazed at him in dismay. Then her face cleared suddenly, and Master Hardy looking over his shoulder saw that his retreat was cut off by Mr. Wilks.

      “Don’t let him hurt me, Sam,” entreated Miss Nugent, piteously.

      Mr. Wilks came into the garden and closed the gate behind him.

      “I wasn’t going to hurt her,” cried Master Hardy, anxiously; “as if I should hurt a girl!

      “Wot are you doing in our front garden, then?” demanded Mr. Wilks.

      He sprang forward suddenly and, catching the boy by the collar with one huge hand, dragged him, struggling violently, down the side-entrance into the back garden. Miss Nugent, following close behind, sought to improve the occasion.

      “See what you get by coming into our garden,” she said.

      The victim made no reply. He was writhing strenuously in order to frustrate Mr. Wilks’s evident desire to arrange him comfortably for the administration of the stick he was carrying. Satisfied at last, the ex-steward raised his weapon, and for some seconds plied it briskly. Miss Nugent trembled, but sternly repressing sympathy for the sufferer, was pleased that the long arm of justice had at last over-taken him.

      “Let him go now, Sam,” she said; “he’s crying.”

      “I’m not,” yelled Master Hardy, frantically.

      “I can see the tears,” declared Miss Nugent, bending.

      Mr. Wilks plied the rod again until his victim, with a sudden turn, fetched him a violent kick on the shin and broke loose. The ex-steward set off in pursuit, somewhat handicapped by the fact that he dare not go over flower-beds, whilst Master Hardy was singularly free from such prejudices. Miss Nugent ran to the side-entrance to cut off his retreat. She was willing for him to be released, but not to escape, and so it fell out that the boy, dodging beneath Mr. Wilks’s outspread arms, charged blindly up the side-entrance and bowled the young lady over.

      There was a shrill squeal, a flutter of white, and a neat pair of button boots waving in the air. Then Miss Nugent, sobbing piteously, rose from the puddle into which she had fallen and surveyed her garments. Mr. Wilks surveyed them, too, and a very cursory glance was sufficient to show him that the case was beyond his powers. He took the outraged damsel by the hand, and led her, howling lustily, in to the horrified Ann.

      “My word,” said she, gasping. “Look at your gloves! Look at your frock!”

      But Miss Nugent was looking at her knees. There was only a slight redness about the left, but from the right a piece of skin was indubitably missing. This knee she gave Ann instructions to foment with fair water of a comfortable temperature, indulging in satisfied prognostications as to the fate of Master Hardy when her father should see the damage.

      The news, when the captain came home, was broken to him by degrees. He was first shown the flower-beds by Ann, then Mrs. Kingdom brought in various soiled garments, and at the psychological moment his daughter bared her knees.

      “What will you do to him, father?” she inquired.

      The captain ignored the question in favour of a few remarks on the subject of his daughter’s behaviour, coupled with stern inquiries as to where she learnt such tricks. In reply Miss Nugent sheltered herself behind a list which contained the names of all the young gentlemen who attended her kindergarten class and many of the young ladies, and again inquired as to the fate of her assailant.

      Jack came in soon after, and the indefatigable Miss Nugent produced her knees again. She had to describe the injury to the left, but the right spoke for itself. Jack gazed at it with indignation, and then, without waiting for his tea, put on his cap and sallied out again.

      He returned an hour later, and instead of entering the sitting-room went straight upstairs to bed, from whence he sent down word by the sympathetic Ann that he was suffering from a bad headache, which he proposed to treat with raw meat applied to the left eye. His nose, which was apparently suffering from sympathetic inflammation, he left to take care of itself, that organ bitterly resenting any treatment whatsoever.

      He described the battle to Kate and Ann the next day, darkly ascribing his defeat to a mysterious compound which Jem Hardy was believed to rub into his arms; to a foolish error of judgment at the beginning of the fray, and to the sun which shone persistently in his eyes all the time. His audience received the explanations in chilly silence.

      “And he said it was an accident he knocked you down,” he concluded; “he said he hoped you weren’t hurt, and he gave me some toffee for you.”

      “What did you do with it?” demanded Miss Nugent.

      “I knew you wouldn’t have it,” replied her brother, inconsequently, “and there wasn’t much of it.”

      His sister regarded him sharply.

      “You don’t mean to say you ate it?” she screamed.

      “Why not?” demanded her brother. “I wanted comforting, I can tell you.”

      “I wonder you were not too—too proud,” said Miss Nugent, bitterly.

      “I’m never too proud to eat toffee,” retorted Jack, simply.

      He stalked off in dudgeon at the lack of sympathy displayed by his audience, and being still in need of comforting sought it amid the raspberry-canes.

      His father noted his son’s honourable scars, but made no comment. As to any action on his own part, he realized to the full the impotence of a law-abiding and dignified citizen when confronted by lawless youth. But Master Hardy came to church no more. Indeed, the following Sunday he was fully occupied on the beach, enacting the part of David, after first impressing the raving Mr. Wilks into that of Goliath.

      CHAPTER IV

      For the next month or two Master Hardy’s existence was brightened by the efforts of an elderly steward who made no secret of his intentions of putting an end to it. Mr. Wilks at first placed great reliance on the saw that “it is СКАЧАТЬ