“Indeed, I do not know that gentleman—there must be some mistake—pray let us get away.”
Thus urged, the boy drew up his slight figure to its full height, and turning to the individual in question, said haughtily—
“You are mistaken, sir; I must trouble you to allow us to pass.”
“It is you who mistake jest for earnest, my good boy,” was the contemptuous reply; “the lady and I are old friends; she is merely trying to tease me by pretending to have forgotten me. This gentleman” (and he glanced at his companion) “will explain the matter to you.” Then again offering his arm to Annie, he continued, “Really, if you persist in your silly joke we shall have the carriage drive off.” Confused by his pertinacity, Alfred Travers glanced at his trembling companion, and reading the truth in the terrified expression of her face, his boyish chivalry took fire, and anxious to vindicate his title to be considered a man, he exclaimed, angrily—
“Stand back, sir, and let us pass; do you mean to insult the lady?”
The person he addressed, Sir Gilbert Vivian, was a roué Baronet who, having been a man about town for the last sixteen years, and having long since lost all the good character he had ever possessed, and acquired a reputation of a diametrically opposite tendency, was scarcely a person to stick at trifles, laughed as he replied—
“Do you hear that, Forester? This good youth accuses you of insulting the young lady—hadn’t you better give him a lesson in civility?”
As he spoke he made a significant gesture, which the other responded to by exclaiming—
“Insult the lady! what do you mean, you young cub, eh?” and grasping him by the arm, he twisted him roughly round, thereby separating him from Annie.
“Take that, and find out,” was the thoroughly school-boy answer, as, bounding forward, the ex-Etonian administered to his antagonist a ringing box on the ear.