"Yes, sir."
"How often?"
"Three or four times within a week or so."
"Why did you not tell me?"
"I didn't want to bother you, sir."
"But this is new; it shows a hostile spirit——. Well, I'll say no more now. As for you, you young scoundrel, I'm not a justice, or I'd commit you. You shall take your choice; a sound flogging, or haled before Sir Bevil: that will mean three months in Truro jail. Which is it to be?"
"I don't want to see Sir Bevil," said Jake, sullenly.
"Strip off your coat, then. Reuben, bring my whip."
Dick went away: he could not remain to see the lad thrashed.
"Now, Reuben, half a dozen lashes," said the Squire when his man returned. "No; I'll do it myself. Stoop!"