ck of the jolly bench. For I wasn't there, don't you know.

"Huh! Think you're some smart, don't you?" he sneered, hitching his
trousers band. "Now, look here"--he leveled his finger--"you're a guest
here and I know I oughtn't to do it, and I _hate_ it for Jack's sake,
but I'm feeling I'll just _have_ to give you another trimming this
lovely morning!" He chuckled, rolling his lips and spreading them till I
could see every tooth. He moved toward me leisurely, slipping up his
sleeves. "What you got last night, sonny, was for your own sake, but
_this_ time it's going to be for Frances'--you _fishworm_!"

"Guess we'll leave Miss Frances out of it, don't you know," I
remonstrated. _Dash_ the fellow's impudence! Then, remembering I was
wearing a coat of dark cheviot that was the very devil for showing every
speck of dust, I slipped out of it and looked about for somewhere to
hang it. Not a dashed place, of course; not a thing, you know, except
nails here and there in the wooden uprights of the pergola, and of
course _nails_ wouldn't do to hang a coat on. So I just folded the jolly
thing carefully--very carefully, just as I had seen Jenkins do--and then
I held it on my arm.

The chap had been shifting about me in a curve, clucking his tongue
contemptuously and muttering, and getting more jolly red-eyed and
abusive every minute.

"Be a man!" he snarled. "You blame tailor's dummy, be a _man_!" And he
struck his chest a blow to show me what he meant.

And just then I remembered to smooth my hair-part.

"Oh, _you_--" With a growl like a bear, he swept both his hands to his
head and whirled them through his great yellow pile, leaving each hair
standing on end like the quills on the fretful what's-its-name. Then he
danced toward me, pausing irregularly to double over with a chuckle.

"Oh, this is _too_ good!" he yelped. "But I can't help it; I jest can't
refuse the money, Lizzie! I know they'll send me away for this,
but--Oh, mamma!"

And over he'd double again.

Oddest thing, isn't it, how your jolly active mind _will_ wander at the
rummest times; and I had a thought then of how, when I was a delicate
boy, bully old Doctor Dake and Doctor Madden had prescribed a
punching-bag, and later boxing-gloves. And I thought with a pang of what
ripping times the governor and I had, scrapping, and of what knocks he
gradually began to give me until he forced me to learn to come back
harder. Jove, what corking hours we had! And then wh