"Good-bye, miss. If he become too rampagious, do 'ee whisper 'tankard' to 'un."
Uncle did not walk straight to the Pomfret Arms; he fetched a compass, calling upon Mrs. Yellam. He told his tale without embellishment. Susan threw back her head and laughed. Then she kissed her brother.
"Habakkuk," she said solemnly, "'twas a gert victory for you, and for me, over Satan."
Next day, by the luck of things, Saint met Uncle face to face in the village street.
"You downed me last night, because I wasn't sober."
"Drunk and disorderly!" exclaimed Uncle, raising his voice so that others might hear. "What would Squire say, if so be as you came afore the Bench?"
Saint was perfectly sober and smugly self-possessed.
"You couldn't down me this morning."
"I be willing to try," said Uncle, perceiving that he had room for side-stepping. "You takes your coat off and I takes off mine, and we goes at it, here and now, slam-bang."
Saint declined this cordial invitation. He scowled at Uncle, and went his way.