"No indeed, sir," said the complainant indignantly; "this dear boy never so much as lifted a hand to her. Ah, here she comes—the very—ahem, young lady herself."
All ignorant of the trouble in store for her, Cissy came whistling through the laurels with half-a-dozen dogs at her heels. At sight of her Mrs. Baker bridled and perked her chin with indignation till all her black bugles clashed and twinkled.
"Come here, Cissy," said her father sternly. "Did you strike this boy to-day in front of his mother's gate?"
"Yes, I did," quoth the undaunted Cissy, "and what's more, I'll do it again, and give him twice as much, if he ever dares to call my grandmother 'Old Blind Patch' again—I don't care if he is two years and three months older than me!"
"Did you call names at my mother?" demanded Cissy's father, towering up very big, and looking remarkably stern.
Master Wedgwood had no denial ready; but he had his best boots on and he looked very hard at them.
"Come, Wedgwood dear, tell them that you did not call names. You know you could not!"
"I never called nobody names. It was her that hit me!" snivelled Wedgwood.
"Now, you hear," said his mother, as if that settled the question.
"Oh, you little liar! Wait till I catch you out!" said Cissy, going a step nearer as if she would like to begin again. "I'll teach you to tell lies on me."