“Oh, ah! it's obstinate I mean,” replied Mullins. “Well, you know donkeys are obstinate, like a pig; that's what I meant.”
“Don't be a fool,” said Lawless. “Deuce take these chairs, I cannot make myself comfortable anyhow—the fact is, I must have three, that's the proper number—give me another, Mullins.”
“I can't find one,” was the answer; “they are all in use.”
“Can't find one! nonsense,” said Lawless; “here, take one of these; the gentleman is asleep, and won't object, I daresay.”
When Mullins was shutting the window his head had been so turned as to prevent his observing the symptoms of anger in Oaklands, which had convinced me that he would not bear trifling with much longer. Presuming, therefore, from the success of his former attacks, that the new pupil was a person who might be insulted with impunity, and actuated by that general desire of retaliation, which is the certain effect bullying produces upon a mean disposition, Mullins proceeded, con amore, to fulfil Lawless's injunction. With a sudden snatch he withdrew the centre chair, on which Oaklands' legs mainly rested, so violently as nearly to throw them to the ground, a catastrophe which was finally consummated by Lawless giving the other chair a push with his foot, so that it was only by great exertion and quickness that Oaklands was able to save himself from falling.
This was the climax; forbearance merely human could endure no longer: Lawless had obtained his object of disturbing Harry Oaklands' self-possession, and was now to learn the consequences of his success. With a bound like that of an infuriated tiger, Oaklands leaped upon his feet, and, dashing Mullins into a corner with such force that he remained lying exactly where he fell, he sprang upon Lawless, seized him by the collar of his coat, and after a short but severe struggle dragged him to the window, which was about eight feet from the ground, threw it open, and taking him in his arms with as much ease as if he had been a child flung him out. He then returned to the corner in which, paralysed with fear, Mullins was still crouching, drew him to the spot from whence he had removed the chair, placed him there upon his hands and knees, and saying, in a stern voice, “If you dare to move till I tell you, I'll throw you out of the window too,” quietly resumed his former position, with his legs resting upon Mullins' back instead of a chair.
As soon as Coleman and I had in some degree recovered from our surprise and consternation (for the anger of Oaklands once roused was a fearful thing to behold), we ran to the other window, just in time to see Lawless, who had alighted among some stunted shrubs, turn round and shake his fist at Oaklands (who merely smiled), ere he regained his feet, and rang the bell in order to gain admittance. A minute afterwards we heard him stride upstairs, enter his bedroom, and close the door with a most sonorous bang. Affairs remained in this position nearly a quarter of an hour, no one feeling inclined to be the first to speak. At length the silence was broken by Oaklands, who, addressing himself to Cumberland, said:—
“I am afraid this absurd piece of business has completely marred the harmony of the evening. Get up, Mr. Mullins,” he continued, removing his legs, and assisting him to rise; “I hope I did not hurt you just now.”