“That’s him, gaffer, sure enough.”
“Hurrah!” Frank shouted; “do you hear that, Katie? Thrashed like a sack, and two of those front teeth he was so fond of showing down his throat!”
“I’m glad,” Kate said, heartily; “I’m glad. I’d have given anything to have seen it.”
“So would I, Katie. Why didn’t you tell me at once it was Fred Bingham?” he asked the man.
“I always like to keep my good news for the last, master,” the man said, with a grin.
Frank and Kate both laughed.
“Here, my lad,” Frank said; “here’s five shillings to drink my health. Be sure you don’t let out where Holl is gone.”
“Trust me, Gaffer,” the man said; “I’m as close as a mole. Good-bye, your honour. I wish you luck wherever you go.”
Frank gave the man a warm shake of the hand. “Good-bye, lad; keep yourself steady.”
“Well, Katie,” he said, when he went back to the parlour; “I am pleased. To think of that rascal getting his deserts after all.”