“If you’ve had enough I’ll call him off,” said Peace.
“Call him off then. Drat it, he’s got hold of my leg. Do’ee call him off.”
Peace did as he was bid.
Then, panting, bleeding, and fairly cowed, the village athlete stood for awhile humiliated and crestfallen.
“You’ve brought this on yourself, my fine fellow,” said our hero. “You’re a big strapping chap, but you see size and strength aint everything. Take my advice, and think twice before you commit an assault upon those who have never done you any harm, and with whom you have no just and reasonable excuse for quarrelling.”
“Didn’t you meet Nell in the lane? Answer me that.”
“I am not bound to answer every fool’s question,” returned Peace. “What if I did meet a young woman in the lane, or anywhere else for the matter of that, am I to be called to account by a fellow like you? You must be little better than a born idiot to suppose such a thing for a moment.”
“I’ll ha’ it oot wi’ ’ee some other time.”
“Will you?”
“Yes, I will.”