ut himself
altogether in the wrong. He would bide his time, would let them conclude
their--in his belief--nefarious business and challenge them as they
passed out.

Nor had he long to wait. The two smaller boys, breathing hard, hoisted
the bulging, half-filled sack on to the back of their bigger
companion; who, bowed beneath its weight, grunting with exertion,
advanced towards the exit.

Sawyer laid aside his walking-stick, and, as the leader of the procession
came abreast of him, pounced. But missed his aim. Upon which the boy cast
down the sack, from the mouth of which apples, beets, turnips rolled into
the road; and, with a yelp, bolted down the lane towards the causeway,
leaving his accomplices to their fate. These, thrown into confusion by
the suddenness of his desertion, hesitated and were lost. For, pouncing
again, and that the more warily for his recent failure, Sawyer collared
one with either hand.

They were maladorous children; and the young clergyman, grasping woollen
jersey-neck and shirt-band, the backs of his hands in contact with the
backs of their moist, warm, dirty little necks, suffered disgust, yet
held them the more firmly.

"I am convinced you have no right to that fruit or to those vegetables.
You are stealing. Give an account of yourselves at once."

And he shook them slightly to emphasize his command. One hung on his
hand, limp as a rag. The other showed fight, kicking our friend liberally
about the shins, with hobnailed boots which did, most confoundly, hurt.

"You lem' me go," he cried. "Lem' me go, or I'll tell father, and first
time you come along by our place 'e'll set the ratting dawgs on to you.
Our ole bitch 'as got 'er teeth yet. She'll bite. Ketch the fleshy part
of your leg, she will, and just tear and bite."

This carrying of war into the enemy's country proved as disconcerting as
unexpected, while to mention the sex of an animal was, in Reginald
Sawyer's opinion, to be guilty of unpardonable coarseness. The atmosphere
of a Protestant middle-class home clung to him yet, begetting in him a
squeamishness, not to say prudery, almost worthy of his hostesses, the
Miss Minetts. He shook the culprits again, with a will. He also blushed.

"If you were honest you would be anxious to give an account of
yourselves," he asserted, ignoring the unpleasant matter of the dogs. "I
am afraid you are very wicked boys. You have stolen these vegetables and
fruits. Thieves are tried by the magist