"Yes, that she do," interpolated the grandmother in question.
"Or your life?" He looked in turn from one boy to the other, and finally his gaze rested on Bailey.
Bertie met his eyes with a sullen stare. "I tell you I'd nothing to do with it," he said.
"And I tell you I don't care that who had to do with it," and Mr. Huffham snapped his fingers. "You're that there pack of liars I wouldn't believe you on your oath before a judge and jury, not that I wouldn't!" and his fingers were snapped again. He and Bailey stood for a moment looking into each other's face.
"If you hit me for what I didn't do, I'll do something worth hitting for."
"Will you?" Mr. Huffham caught him by the shoulder, and held him as in a vice.
"Don't you hit me!"
Apparently Mrs. Huffham was impressed by something in his manner. "Don't you hit 'un hard! now don't you!"
"Won't I? I'll hit him so hard, I'll about do for him, that's about as hard as I'll hit him." A look came into Mr. Huffham's face which was not nice to see. Bailey never flinched; his hard-set jaw and sullen eyes made the resemblance to the bulldog more vivid still. "You pay me that pound!"
"I wouldn't if I had it!"