“Go away from our gate,” she stormed. “If my father catches you, you'll suffer.”
“Pooh!” said the dare-devil. He looked up at the house and then, opening the gate, strode boldly into the front garden. Before this intrusion Miss Nugent retreated in alarm, and gaining the door-step gazed at him in dismay. Then her face cleared suddenly, and Master Hardy looking over his shoulder saw that his retreat was cut off by Mr. Wilks.
“Don't let him hurt me, Sam,” entreated Miss Nugent, piteously.
Mr. Wilks came into the garden and closed the gate behind him.
“I wasn't going to hurt her,” cried Master Hardy, anxiously; “as if I should hurt a girl!
“Wot are you doing in our front garden, then?” demanded Mr. Wilks.
He sprang forward suddenly and, catching the boy by the collar with one huge hand, dragged him, struggling violently, down the side-entrance into the back garden. Miss Nugent, following close behind, sought to improve the occasion.
“See what you get by coming into our garden,” she said.
The victim made no reply. He was writhing strenuously in order to frustrate Mr. Wilks's evident desire to arrange him comfortably for the administration of the stick he was carrying. Satisfied at last, the ex-steward raised his weapon, and for some seconds plied it briskly. Miss Nugent trembled, but sternly repressing sympathy for the sufferer, was pleased that the long arm of justice had at last over-taken him.
“Let him go now, Sam,” she said; “he's crying.”