The first object on which the blacksmith's eyes rested kindled him with indignation, and recalled mortifying memories. It was Achilles Henderson, the giant, who, on his side recognized Aaron Bickford.
"Good evening, my friend," he said, with a smile. "I believe we have met before."
"Do you know him?" asked Mrs. Bickford, in surprise.
Aaron's brow contracted as he answered:
"It's the ruffian that threw me over the fence this morning."
"I see you remember me," said Achilles, good-naturedly.
"I ought to remember you," retorted the blacksmith.
"Come, don't bear malice. It was only a little joke."
"I don't like such jokes."
"Well, well; I'll give you satisfaction. I'll let you throw me over the fence any time you want to, and I won't make a particle of resistance."