Alf had been back some time and had already told his tale, gibbering with excitement and fear.
Ern's mother, in a white fury, was awaiting the boy in the kitchen.
"I'll learn you disgrace me!" she cried. "Robbing your own chapel-manager's orchard—and then come home like a drownded rat!"
She set about the lad in good earnest.
Alf, perched upon the dresser to be out of the way, watched the fun, biting his nails.
"You mustn't hit her back then!" he screamed. "Your own mother!"
"I aren't hittin' her back then!" cried Ern, dogged, dazed, and warding off the blows as best he might. "I'm only defendin of mesalf."
The noise of the scuffle was considerable.
Outside in the passage was the sound of slippered feet. Then some one tried the door.
"It's only dad!" cried the devil on the dresser, white and with little black eyes that danced.