,
Dudley, in a flagrant pair of cross-barred peg-tops, and what Milly before
her reformation used to call other 'slops' of corresponding atrocity,
approaching our refined little party with great strides. I really think
that Milly was very nearly ashamed of him. I certainly was. I had no
apprehension, however, of the scene which was imminent.

The charming Captain mistook him probably for some rustic servant of the
place, for he continued his agreeable remarks up to the very moment when
Dudley, whose face was pale with anger, and whose rapid advance had not
served to cool him, without recollecting to salute either Milly or me,
accosted our elegant companion as follows:--

'By your leave, master, baint you summat in the wrong box here, don't you
think?'

He had planted himself directly in his front, and looked unmistakably
menacing.

'May I speak to him? Will you excuse me?' said the Captain blandly.

'Ow--ay, they'll excuse ye ready enough, I dessay; you're to deal wi' me
though. Baint ye in the wrong box now?'

'I'm not conscious, sir, of being in a box at all,' replied the Captain,
with severe disdain. 'It strikes me you are disposed to get up a row. Let
us, if you please, get a little apart from the ladies if that is your
purpose.'

'I mean to turn you out o' this the way ye came. If you make a row, so much
the wuss for you, for I'll lick ye to fits.'

'Tell him not to fight,' whispered Milly; 'he'll a no chance wi' Dudley.'

I saw Dickon Hawkes grinning over the paling on which he leaned.

'Mr. Hawkes,' I said, drawing Milly with me toward that unpromising
mediator, 'pray prevent unpleasantness and go between them.'

'An' git licked o' both sides? Rather not, Miss, thank ye,' grinned Dickon,
tranquilly.

'Who are you, sir?' demanded our romantic acquaintance, with military
sternness.

'I'll tell you who you are--you're Oakley, as stops at the Hall, that
Governor wrote, over-night, not to dare show your nose inside the grounds.
You're a half-starved cappen, come down here to look for a wife, and----'

Before Dudley could finish his sentence, Captain Oakley, than whose face no
regimentals could possibly have been more scarlet, at that moment, struck
with his switch at Dudley's handsome features.

I don't know how it was done--by some 'devilish cantrip slight.' A smack
was heard, and the Captain lay on his back on the ground, with his mouth
full of blood.

'How do ye like the taste o' that?' roared D