“Then bottle it up for future use,” said Uncle Dick. “You really must.”
“To attack and hurt the boy in that way! It’s scandalous. The young ruffians—the young savages!”
Just then Mr Tomplin came in, looked sharply round, and saw there was something wrong.
“I beg your pardon,” he said quickly; “I’ll look in another time.”
“No, no,” said Uncle Bob. “Pray sit down. We want your advice. A cruel assault upon our nephew here”—and he related the whole affair.
“Humph!” ejaculated Mr Tomplin, looking hard at me.
“What should you advise—warrants against the ringleaders?”
“Summonses, Mr Robert, I presume,” said Mr Tomplin. “But you don’t know who they were?”
“Yes; oh, yes!” cried Uncle Bob eagerly. “Two young Gentles.”
“But you said the mother saved our young friend here from the lads, dowsed them and trounced them with a pail, and made her husband clean his boots, while she nursed him and made him tea.”