“Well, I don’t know yet,” said Dick, looking in a puzzled way from one to the other. “What is it?”
“Don’t know!” cried Max. “Didn’t I speak to you, sir, an hour or two back?”
“Was it an hour or two back?” said Dick, who still held and soothed Jessie, as she clung to him.
“Yes, it was, sir!” cried Max, who was surprised that his brother did not cower, according to his wont. “I told you an hour or two ago that I would not have these disgraceful proceedings.”
“What disgraceful proceedings?” said Dick sullenly.
“These,” cried Max, pointing with his stick first at Jessie and then at Tom. “I speak to you, and warn you—”
“Let me say a word,” began Tom.
“Hold your tongue, sir!” cried Max, holding up his stick; but the young man did not flinch. “I say, I speak to you and warn you, and directly after I find your girl arm-in-arm with this foolish son of mine in the open street, sir—in the open street.”
“Well, Max, you can’t have the streets shut up,” said Dick quietly.
“How dare you address me, sir, like that?” cried Max. “Will you listen, Mr Shingle?” cried Tom, who was losing patience—“it was all my fault.”