A cry from Nan brought him to his feet, chattering. “What it it? what is
it?” in a renewed access of fear. “Oh, Silas!” she exclaimed, coming
close to him, “there’s Hambley looking in through the window; tell him
to go away, oh, please tell him to go away! He does what you tell him
always.”
Hambley was indeed pressing his face against the window, and the shape
of his head was dark against the red sky. He was so small that he was
only just able to reach the window by climbing to the outside sill with
the tips of his fingers, and the end of his nose was flattened white
upon the pane. Nan could see the grin on his evil little face. Silas
strode to the door, flung it open, and summoned the little man. At the
end of the street the night was torn by flames.
As soon as Hambley was inside he seized the little man by his collar.
“Now what were you doing, peeping into my house when you thought you
wouldn’t be found out? You little skunk, I’ve always called you, and so
you are. You frightened Nan, you little skunk. You meant to spy upon me.
Well, you’ll see what you get!” Holding him easily with one hand,
sometimes swinging him clean off his feet, so that he twirled and
dangled in mid-air, Silas thrashed him with his fist, and Hambley
shrieked and appealed to Nan, and tried, but quite vainly, to kick
Silas. Nan got into a corner, out of the way of the blows. When he had
finished, Silas carried him over to the door and threw him regardlessly
out into the street.