"But I am sure that my mother is right," exclaimed Willy with an effort, moving towards the door to make his escape.
"You are, are you? And you are going to sneak away, little puling coward."
Willy turned suddenly round, with his hand on the door-handle. "I should be a coward if I feared you, but it is not cowardice to fear God;" and with these words he hastily quitted the room.
"Pursue him! catch him!" cried the Murchisons.
"No, let him go. We are better without him," said Ned sullenly. "The shorter time he stays here the better. I'd send him back to his mammy. Come, Tom, you are a boy of a braver spirit; you are not afraid to do what you like; come, and be my partner at the billiard-table."
In a few minutes Tom was standing with the cue in his hand, hitting with unsteady aim at the balls, and wishing that he had never crossed the threshold of Anderdon Hall.
[CHAPTER XV.]
FEAR OF PAIN.
NEVER, perhaps, in the course of his life had Willy felt happier than when he had fairly got beyond the lodge-gate, and found himself upon the dusty high road.