“The lad, the lad!”
“An you keeps me from workin’ my will with that good lad––”
“I say to you frankly: Damn the lad!”
My uncle struck the stranger. “Ye’ll mend your manners!” cried he. “Ye’ve forgot your obligations, but ye’ll mend your manners!”
I marvelled that these men should strike each other with impunity. The like was never known before. That each should patiently bear the insult of the other! I could not make it out. ’Twas strange beyond experience. A blow––and the other cheek turned! Well enough for Christians––but my vicious uncle and this evil stranger! That night, while I watched and listened unperceived from the hall, I could not understand; but now I know that a fellowship of wickedness was signified.
“I’ll not hurt you, Top,” the stranger mocked, “for the blow.”
My uncle laughed.
“Are you laughing, Top?” the stranger sneered. “You are, aren’t you? Well,” says he, “who laughs last laughs best. And I tell you, Top, though you may seem to have the best laugh now, I’ll have the last. And you won’t like it, Top––you won’t be happy when you hear me.”
My uncle laughed again. I wish he had not laughed––not in that unkind way.
“Anyhow,” said the stranger, “take that with my compliments!”