“No, my son, why should we turn back?” said his father mildly; “we can pass by these fields, and this house, I hope, without coveting our neighbour’s goods.”
As they came near the house, he stopped at the gate to look at it. “It is a good house,” said he; “but I have no need to envy any man a good house; I, that have so much better things—good children!”
Just as he uttered these words, Mr. Bettesworth’s house door opened, and three or four men appeared on the stone steps, quarrelling and fighting. The loud voices of Bullying Bob and Wild Will were heard too plainly.
“We have no business here,” said old Frankland, turning to his children: “let us go.”
The combatants pursued each other with such furious rapidity that they were near to the gate in a few instants.
“Lock the gate, you without there, whoever you are! Lock the gate! or I’ll knock you down when I come up, whoever you are;” cried Bullying Bob, who was hindmost in the race.
Wild Will was foremost; he kicked open the gate, but his foot slipped as he was going through: his brother overtook him, and, seizing him by the collar, cried, “Give me back the bank-notes, you rascal! they are mine, and I’ll have ‘em in spite of you.”
“They are mine, and I’ll keep ‘em in spite of you,” retorted Will, who was much intoxicated.
“Oh! what a sight! brothers fighting! Oh! part them, part them! Hold! hold! for Heaven’s sake!” cried old Frankland to them.
Frank and James held them asunder, though they continued to abuse one another in the grossest terms. Their father, by this time, came up: he wrung his hands, and wept bitterly.