"I quite believe that, Dick, for you've done your best to bring me to it," replied John.
But Dick poured out such a volley of oaths, that John wisely forbore to say anything further.
Finding he could not provoke John to retaliate, Dick sneered: "I suppose now you've sown your wild oats, and got all you could out of me, you'll be sending for that smooth-tongued, virtuous wench to come out and help you keep straight, for such a poor weak fool as you'll never do without some one to look after you; but see if I don't let her know a few of your nice little secrets."
John's blood was raised to boiling-point. He started to his feet, and the next minute Dick lay prostrate before him.
"Take that," he cried; "and if you dare to say one more word about her, I'll give you cause to repent it. You're not worthy to lick the ground she treads on."
Dick looked up, but neither moved nor spoke, while his younger brother thrust a few odds and ends into a bag, and prepared to leave. Coward as he was, he feared to provoke John's just anger again, and not till after the door was violently slammed behind his brother, and the sound of his rapid footsteps had died away, did Dick rise from the ground.
Then he shook himself to ascertain if he had received any damages, and finding himself not much the worse for his fall, he sat down and took out his pipe. For some time he smoked furiously, and then struck his hands together as he exclaimed:
"I'll do it, as sure as I live! I'll pay him out for this, or my name's not Dick Greenwood."
Three days after, John walked into the store in Melbourne, where he had been previously employed.
"It's you, is it?" said the foreman; "ain't you satisfied with your change?"