“No, but it was your fault not to tell us that it was dead,” said Di.
“Now, blow me, if I think it was,” cried Jonas, “a civil question gets a civil answer, that’s what I’ve always learnt. And if you’d spoken civil to me, first go off—them boys, I mean—I’d have spoken civil too, and acted straight with you. But, as it is, I’ve given you all a lesson in manners, and not charged over highly for it either. And now I’ll ask you to clear out of my place; quick march, I say.”
“You’re a werry rude old man,” cried Hubert, waxing bold; but Andrew broke in, his tongue being the only member left free, he meant to use it for a final onslaught.
“Now, my good man,” he began, intending to be dignified and opening his mouth extraordinarily wide, after a manner peculiar to himself, “now my goo——”
His mouth shut with a snap, amidst the hearty laughter of all around him. For with an aim so direct that it could not err, and with such promptness that no interference would have been possible, Jonas had thrown a big lump of cobbler’s wax straight into Andrew’s pompously parted jaws.
And so this episode, which the boys had fondly hoped might end perhaps in a little bloodshed, was concluded by this comical finale, which provoked all the spectators from sober Faith down to little Gaston to ungovernable merriment.
Only Andrew looked as black as the offending missile itself.
“And as that last attention wasn’t reckoned for in the bargain, you can have your money back again,” laughed the old cobbler, producing the half-crown, “and my best wishes along with it; that when you next try to set the world to rights, you’ll make a better job of it. And, as for you,” nodding at Andrew, “don’t you pick out a lame dog again to show your strength on. Coward’s trick, I call that.”
“Ay, ay,” echoed Aaron’s voice from the background, where he had disappeared, “a coward’s trick, and no mistake.”
So coward was the last sound that pursued the young knights as they retreated in doubtful good order from the field of this, their maiden essay in redressing wrong.