“You were always an abusive, audacious fellow, even as a boy,” returned Gatliffe. “And a man who knows you as well as I do must be a fool to take any notice of your blustering.”
Two farm labourers who had witnessed the conflict from a neighbouring meadow, now came forward and proffered their services to Gatliffe.
“You’ve got a bit of a madman, aint ye, master?” said one of the men. “May be he’s escaped from his keeper.”
“You impudent wretch!” ejaculated Peace.
“What be going to do wi’ him?” said the other rustic. “He deserves ducking in the horse pond—that be the best way to serve him.”
“He’s flung a big stone at ’ee,” said the other; “better take him to the police station.”
“Oh, there’s no occasion for that,” answered Gatliffe. “I think he may go about his business now. If he’s got any sense he will do so at once.”
And with these words he left go of Peace, who deemed it advisable not to attempt any renewal of hostilities.
“Now go your way,” said Gatliffe. “You are smarting under some real or imaginary wrong; hence it is, I suppose, that you have fallen foul of me.”
“I haven’t done with you—depend upon that,” cried Peace. “You’ve got the better of me now, I admit, but that does not settle the difference between us.”