"You needn't think you can put on any of your airs here. I won't stand it!" vociferated Huxter, gradually working himself up into a rage.
"I don't want to put on any airs, Mr. Huxter," said John.
"Do you mean to contradict me?" demanded Huxter, glaring at John.
"You had better go out," said Mrs. Huxter, in a low voice.
"He shan't go out! He shall stay," roared Huxter. "I'll thank you not to interfere, Mrs. Huxter. I'm going to flog the young jackanape."
He seized his stick and made a rush at John. Our hero, knowing he could not cope with him, and besides not wishing to get into a fight in the presence of Mrs. Huxter, dodged the angry man. This made Mr. Huxter, whose blood was now up, all the more eager to get hold of him. John, however, succeeded in eluding him once more. This time, however, Mr. Huxter was unlucky. Mrs. Huxter had been washing, and the tub full of quite warm water had been temporarily placed upon the floor of the kitchen. Mr. Huxter, whose motions were not over-steady, slipped, and, falling backward, sat down in the tub.
He gave a yell of pain, and John, taking advantage of the accident, ran out of the door. But Mr. Huxter was in no condition to follow him. The water was not hot enough to scald him; but it certainly made him feel very uncomfortable.
"The young rascal has killed me," he groaned. "I'm scalded to death, and I suppose you're glad of it, Mrs. Huxter. You put the tub there on purpose."
Mr. Huxter took off his clothes and went to bed, swearing at his poor wife, who he declared was in league with John.