again.

"You heave that at me," he cried fiercely, "and I'll come over and smash
yer."

Tom felt disposed to risk the smashing, and drew back his hand to throw
the clod, when his wrist was caught, for his uncle had heard what
passed, and returned to the door.

"Don't do that, my boy," he said quietly. Then to Pete, "Get down off
that wall."

"She-arn't! Who are you?" cried the great hulking fellow, and he
scrambled a little more upward, so as to hang over with his elbows on
the top bricks.

"Then stop there," said Uncle Richard quietly. "Don't take any notice
of him, Tom; the fellow is half an idiot."

"So are you!" yelled Pete. "Yah! Who pulled the--"

_Whack_!

"Ow! ah!" A scramble, and Pete disappeared as an angry voice was heard
on the other side of the wall.

"How dare you, sir? Insolent young scoundrel! Be off with you!"

"Don't you hit me!" came in a yelping, snivelling tone. "Don't you hit
me! You hit me, and I'll--Get out!"

There was a dull thud, a yell, and the succession of cries uttered by a
dog in pain, generally known as "chy-ike." For, unable to vent his
spleen upon his aggressor, Pete had turned upon his wretched dog, which
was unfortunate enough to get between his master's legs, nearly sending
him down as he backed away from a quivering malacca cane. The dog
received an awful kick, and ran down the narrow lane, and Pete followed
him in a loose-jointed, shambling trot, turned into the pathway between
the hedges at the bottom of Uncle Richard's field, thrust his head back,
relieved his feelings by yelling out "Yah!" and disappeared.

By this time Tom and his uncle were down at the yard gate, which they
threw open, to find themselves face to face with the vicar, a little
fresh-coloured, plump, grey man of five-and-forty. His brow was
wrinkled with annoyance, and his grey hair and whiskers seemed to
bristle, as he changed the stout cane into his left hand, pulled off his
right glove, and shook hands.

"Good-morning," he cried; "good-morning--nephew, arn't you? Glad to
know you. Only came back last night, Brandon, and the first thing I
encounter in my first walk is that young scoundrel insulting you."

"Oh, it's nothing," said Uncle Richard, smiling.

"But it is something, my dear sir. After all the pains I took with that
boy at our school--when I could get him there--he turns out like this.
Really," he continued, laughing very good-humouredly, and looking down
at his ca