“Mother,” said Tottie, running up to her, “here’s the gent who—”
“’Av-’ee-go’-th’-gin?” growled a deep voice from the dark corner.
“Yes, Abel—”
“’Ave ’ee got th’ gin, I say, Molly?” roared the voice in rising wrath.
“Yes, yes, Abel, here it is,” exclaimed the woman, hastening towards the corner.
The savage who lay there was so eager to obtain the bottle that he made a snatch at it and let it slip on the stone floor, where it was broken to pieces.
“O don’t, Abel dear, don’t! I’ll get another,” pleaded the poor woman; but Abel’s disappointment was too great for endurance; he managed to rise, and made a wild blow at the woman,—missed her, and staggered into the middle of the room. Here he encountered the stern glance of George Aspel. Being a dark, stern man himself, with a bulky powerful frame, he rather rejoiced in the sight of a man who seemed a worthy foe.
“What d’ee wan’ here, you long-legged—hah! would you?” he added, on observing Aspel’s face flush and his fists close, “Take that!”
He struck out at his adversary’s face with tremendous violence. Aspel parried the blow and returned it with such good-will that Abel Bones went headlong into the dark corner whence he had risen,—and lay there.
“I’m very sorry,” said the instantly-repentant George, turning to Mrs Bones, “but I couldn’t help it; really, I—”