“Not yours,” she said, deep and resentful. “He has no part or concern with you. Don’t dare to touch him or contaminate him again!”
I stood facing her without a word. In that moment my utter hate and vindictiveness were born. As she had dealt with me, so would I deal with her. The first card was in my hand. I turned quietly and left them.
CHAPTER VI.
MY FIRST ENLIGHTENMENT
Mr Pugsley sat in the study of his vicarage at Market Grazing. He was composing a sermon—no doubt on the eternal lines of pre-election and the divine partiality. He never gathered how his principles made a comfortable sinecure of his living; but a sinecure it was—a sort of well-furnished limbo, his complete enjoyment of which was only marred by a chronic dyspepsia. He looked up, as I entered, and greeted me with a frown.
“Gaskett!” he exclaimed. “I was somehow thinking of you, and here you are.”
I acknowledged the compliment promptly.
“Yes, I’m the devil, sir,” I said; “and for once in your life you’ve got to answer to me.”
He started, and turned a little yellower.
“This is a strange beginning,” he wondered. “For what, boy, do you hold me answerable to you?”
“For concealment, sir, amongst other things. Mr Pugsley, will you please to tell me if I am my mother’s son?”