“Won’t he? I’ll wager he will. Good words or bad blows are wasted on such as he.”
Then, turning to Alf, Jamblin said—
“I tell ’ee, my lad, I’ll serve ’ee in the same way as we serve a dog who runs out and eats his game. To-morrow I will tie this leveret under your nose and your hands behind your back, and let ’ee nose at it for a day or two—that’s what I’ll do.”
And, with these words, the indignant agriculturist stalked out of the kitchen.
The boy watched him across the yard, and when the farmer was lost to sight he unbuttoned his waistcoat, and passing his hand round his back produced a quantity of napkins with which he had padded himself.
He had been expecting some such castigation, and like an old soldier had recourse to stratagem.
The heavy blows fell harmless upon his back and shoulders.
No wonder he bore all with such patience and equanimity.
In cunning he was more than a match for his master, or indeed the whole of the establishment.
Patty could not refrain from laughing when she beheld the artifice resorted to by her companion in the kitchen.