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."

"I'm not," yelled Master Hardy, frantically.

"I can see the tears," declared Miss Nugent, bending.

Mr. Wilks plied the rod again until his victim, with a sudden turn,
fetched him a violent kick on the shin and broke loose. The ex-steward
set off in pursuit, somewhat handicapped by the fact that he dare not go
over flower-beds, whilst Master Hardy was singularly free from such
prejudices. Miss Nugent ran to the side-entrance to cut off his retreat.
She was willing for him to be released, but not to escape, and so it fell
out that the boy, dodging beneath Mr. Wilks's outspread arms, charged
blindly up the side-entrance and bowled the young lady over.

There was a shrill squeal, a flutter of white, and a neat pair of button
boots waving in the air. Then Miss Nugent, sobbing piteously, rose from
the puddle into which she had fallen and surveyed her garments. Mr.
Wilks surveyed them, too, and a very cursory glance was sufficient to
show him that the case was beyond his powers. He took the outraged
damsel by the hand, and led her, howling lustily, in to the horrified
Ann.

"My word," said she, gasping. "Look at your gloves! Look at your
frock!"

But Miss Nugent was looking at