As our employer uttered these words he made at Esau, following up and cuffing him first on one side of the head and then on the other, while the lad, who seemed utterly confused with sleep, and the stunning contact of his brow against the desk, backed away round the office, beginning then to put up his arms to defend himself.
“Here,” he cried, “don’t you hit me—don’t you hit me.”
“Hit you!—you stupid, thick-headed, drowsy oaf! I’ll knock some sense into you. Nice pair, upon my word! And you—you scoundrel,” he cried, turning on me, “where have you been?”
“Only—only just outside, sir,” I stammered, as I felt my cheeks flush.
“I’ll only just outside you,” he roared, catching me by the collar and shaking me. “This is the way my work is done, is it? You’re always late of a morning—”
“No, sir,” I cried, indignantly.
“Silence!—And always the first to rush off before your work’s done; and as soon as my back’s turned, you’re off to play with the boys in the street. Where have you been?”
I was silent, I felt that I could not tell him.
“Sulky, eh? Here, you,” he roared, turning upon Esau, “where has he been? How long has he been gone?”
“Don’t you hit me! Don’t you hit me!” cried the boy, sulkily; “I shan’t stand this.”