“But you wouldn’t like to feel it,” said Peter. “My eye, you will open that pretty mouth of yours! Pig-ringing’ll be nothing to it.”
“Won’t be me,” said Bob. “It’ll be him, and serve him right.”
Dexter’s cheeks grew redder as he pictured the disgrace of a flogging scene.
“Not it,” continued Peter. “You’ll get all that. Sir James’ll give it you as sure as a gun. Won’t he, Dan’l!”
“Ah!” ejaculated the old gardener. “I heerd him say over and over again that ha wouldn’t lose that boat for a hundred pounds. You’ll get it, my gentleman!”
“No, I shan’t, ’cause I didn’t do it. He’ll give it to him, and sarve him right, leading me on to go with him, and boasting and bouncing about, and then pretending he wanted to buy the boat, and saying he sent me with the money.”
“So I did,” cried Dexter, turning sharply round; “and you stole it, and then told lies.”
“That I didn’t,” said Bob. “I never see no money. ’Tain’t likely. It’s all a tale you made up, and—oh!”
Bob burst into a regular bellow of pain, for, as he had been speaking, he had edged along the seat a little from his corner of the carriage, to bring himself nearer Dexter, who occupied the opposite diagonal corner. As Bob spoke he nodded his head, and thrust his face forward at Dexter so temptingly, that, quick as lightning, the latter flung out his right, and gave Bob a back-handed blow in the cheek.
“Oh! how!” cried Bob; and then menacingly, “Here, just you do that again!”