“Come on!” cried Harden, whose blood was aroused.
“Stop, Cousin Stephen—stop, Mr. Harden!” cried the girl, in distress. “You shall not fight!”
“He insulted me!” flamed Harden.
“I called you a sneaking cur, as you are!” hissed Fenton, getting upon his feet.
“And I knocked you down, as you deserved!” flung back the other young man.
“Hurro!” came softly from the lips of the Irish lad. “Thot’s th’ shtuff! Sail in, Misther Fenton, an’ do up th’ spalpane!”
At this moment the other boys, with the exception of Browning, came crashing through the hedge, and were by the two young men.
Fenton looked up, muttered an imprecation and then sibilated at Harden:
“We will settle this some other time!”
“At any time you like,” was the prompt retort.