At the same time the boy, terrified, began to scream. "Mother! mother! help! pray! they'll murder Bideabout."
The hostess speedily appeared, set her arms akimbo, planted her feet resolutely on the floor, and said, in commanding tones—
"Now then! No fighting on the premises. Stand up, you rascal. What have you done with the pewter? Ah, crushed out of all shape and use. That's what Molly Luff sed of her new bonnet when she sat down on it—Lawk, a biddy! Who'd ha' thought it?"
Lonegon staggered to his feet, and burst into a torrent of recrimination against the man whom the boy had called Bideabout.
"I don't care where the rights are, or where be the wrongs. An addled egg be nasty eating whether you tackle it one end or 'tother. All I sez is—I won't have it. But what I will have is—I'll be paid for that there tankard. Who threw it?"
"It was he—yonder, in tatters," said the boy.
"You won't get money out o' me," said Marshall; "my pockets—you may turn 'em out and see for yourself—are rich in nothing but holes, and there's in them just about as many of they as there are in the rose o' a watering can."
"I shall be paid," asserted the hostess. "You three are mates, and there'll be money enough among you."
"Look here, mistress," put in the sailor, "I'll stand the damage, only don't let us have a row. Bring me another can of ale, and tell me what it all comes to. Then we'll be on the move."
"The other fellows may clear off, and the sooner the better," said the landlady. "But not you just now, and the baby has dropped off into the sweetest of sleeps. 'Twere a sin to wake her."