“Oh, boys, you mustn’t fight!” the agonized girl cried, as she reached down and tried to separate the young pugilists, with her limbs all of a tremble. But her efforts were useless, and, regardless of her screams and expostulations, the punching and scratching continued, punctuated by defiant yells, and such horrifying language that the girl shivered.
As she stared as if fascinated by this new and revolting experience, she saw a little trickle of blood oozing down Danny’s face, for Tony, who was the underdog, was an expert at nail-digging. It was a fearsome sight, and Nathalie, appalled by the thought that he might dig out an eye or so in his blinded wrath, in frenzied horror screamed, “Oh, Tony, you’re killing Danny!” But the only result of her cry was, “Yer bet yer life he ain’t!” and the hair continued to fly, as Danny yelled triumphantly, “Gee! I knew I could lick yer wid one hand!” and the gory battle continued.
Then, in sheer desperation, hopelessly wringing her hands, she started in the direction of the house to call her mother. Suddenly she stopped. Oh, no; her mother would send them away, and then—O dear! Ah, she knew what she would do. Terror speeded her feet, and two minutes later she reappeared on the lawn, and with one swing of her arm there came a terrific “Clang! Clang!” as the girl, with big excited eyes, thrust the still clanging bell between the faces of the boys.
The effect was magical, for the lads, with screams of terror, unlocked their arms, hands, and legs, and rolled apart, while gazing with dilated eyes, as if they had heard the crack of doom, at the bell that Nathalie had thrust into their faces.
A few moments later, almost unclothed, dust-begrimed, blood-besmeared, and both sniffling from nerve-shock, but still breathing out dire vengeance one upon the other, Nathalie led her two charges up-stairs and thrust one into the bathroom and the other into a dark closet. Jan, at this moment, appeared in the hall, and the girl excitedly dragged her into her bedroom, and, in a hushed, nervous whisper, made known the proceedings of the last few moments.
But Jan, who at home was a district nurse, and had witnessed many slum fights, burst into a peal of laughter. And then, with her face still red with mirth and laughter, demanded, “Well, young lady, what else did you expect if you will take ragamuffins and street Arabs to your bosom?” Nevertheless Janet’s sympathies were aroused, for Nathalie, if not for the boys, and in a few moments the two girls were industriously making the boys presentable once more.
And then Nathalie led the culprits into a chamber apart, and began to upbraid them, trying to impress their young minds with the enormity of the wrong-doing of which they had been guilty.
But the spirit of the cave-dweller was not yet subdued, and, notwithstanding the girl’s persuasiveness, and her pleading attitude in her endeavor to make them see the error of their way, they kept up a wrangling duet of recriminations, each one accusing the other of punching him first, while stubbornly crying, “Now, ye didn’t lick me.”
Presently Nathalie, under the strain of overwrought nerves, and the sudden realization of the unforeseen responsibility of her position, burst into tears. Lo, to her amazement, her tears acted like oil on troubled waters, for the next instant a grimy hand tugged at her sleeve, as Danny, with troubled eyes, in a sudden wave of contrition, cried: “Oh, Miss Natty, don’t take on like that. Sure and I’m never goin’ to fight no more.”
Meanwhile Tony’s black eyes, in dumb entreaty, grew bigger and bigger, until he, too, in sudden repentance, began to stroke her hand caressingly as his soft, musical voice pleaded, “Please Mees Natta, Tonee, he lova you—he fighta no more.”