Horncastle, who had recovered from his temporary fright for the cooling of his sausages, was specially loud in his remonstrances.
“It’s no use your coming here,” he said, advancing in a menacing way towards Jack on his arrival. “We aren’t going to have you—there!”
And with that, as in my case, he emphasised his remark with a smart kick on Jack’s shins.
Jack was not a short-tempered fellow, but this unprovoked assault startled him out of his usual composure.
“You’d better not do that again,” said he, glaring at his adversary.
Horncastle did not do it again. I don’t know what it was, but at those words, and the glare that accompanied them, his foot, already raised for further action, dropped quietly beside the other.
“I shall do it again if I choose,” he said surlily.
“Then you’d better not choose,” quietly said Jack.
“You’ve got no business here, that’s what I say,” exclaimed Horncastle, falling back upon a safer line of attack.
“Why haven’t I?” said Jack. “I’m a clerk like you.”