If anything was wanted to convince Captain Nugent that his action had
been foolish and his language intemperate it was borne in upon him
by the subsequent behaviour of Master Hardy. Generosity is seldom an
attribute of youth, while egotism, on the other hand, is seldom absent.
So far from realizing that the captain would have scorned such lowly
game, Master Hardy believed that he lived for little else, and his
Jack-in-the-box ubiquity was a constant marvel and discomfort to that
irritable mariner. Did he approach a seat on the beach, it was Master
Hardy who rose (at the last moment) to make room for him. Did he stroll
down to the harbour, it was in the wake of a small boy looking coyly at
him over his shoulder. Every small alley as he passed seemed to contain
a Jem Hardy, who whizzed out like a human firework in front of him, and
then followed dancing on his toes a pace or two in his rear.
This was on week-days; on the Sabbath Master Hardy’s daring ingenuity
led him to still further flights. All the seats at the parish church
were free, but Captain Nugent, whose admirable practice it was to take
his entire family to church, never thoroughly realized how free they
were until Master Hardy squeezed his way in and, taking a seat next to
him, prayed with unwonted fervour into the interior of a new hat, and
then sitting back watched with polite composure the efforts of Miss
Nugent’s family to restrain her growing excitement.
Charmed with the experiment, he repeated it the following Sunday. This
time he boarded the seat from the other end, and seeing no place by the
captain, took one, or more correctly speaking made one, between Miss
Nugent and Jack, and despite the former’s elbow began to feel almost
like one of the family. Hostile feelings vanished, and with an amiable
smile at the half-frantic Miss Nugent he placed a “bull’s-eye” of great
strength in his cheek, and leaning forward for a hymn-book left one on
the ledge in front of Jack. A double-distilled perfume at once assailed
the atmosphere.
Miss Nugent sat dazed at his impudence, and for the first time in
her life doubts as to her father’s capacity stirred within her. She
attempted the poor consolation of an “acid tablet,” and it was at
once impounded by the watchful Mrs. Kingdom. Mean-time the reek of
“bull’s-eyes” was insufferable.
The service seemed interminable, and all that time the indignant
damsel, wedged in between her aunt and the openly exultant enemy of
her House, was compelled to endure in silence. She did indeed attempt
one remark, and Master Hardy, with a horrified expression of outraged
piety, said “H’sh,” and shook his head at her. It was almost more than
flesh and blood could bear, and when the unobservant Mrs. Kingdom asked
her for the text on the way home her reply nearly cost her the loss of
her dinner.
[Illustration: “Mr. Wilks watched it from the quay.”]
The _Conqueror_, under its new commander, sailed on the day following.
Mr. Wilks watched it from the quay, and the new steward observing him
came to the side, and holding aloft an old pantry-cloth between his
finger and thumb until he had attracted his attention, dropped it
overboard with every circumstance of exaggerated horror. By the time a
suitable retort had occurred to the ex-steward the steamer was half a
mile distant, and the extraordinary and unnatural pantomime in which
he indulged on the edge of the quay was grievously misinterpreted by a
nervous man in a sailing boat.
Master Hardy had also seen the ship out, and, perched on the extreme
end of the breakwater, he remained watching until she was hull down
on the horizon. Then he made his way back to the town and the nearest
confectioner, and started for home just as Miss Nugent, who was about
to pay a call with her aunt, waited, beautifully dressed, in the front
garden while that lady completed her preparations.
Feeling very spic and span, and still a trifle uncomfortable from the
vigorous attentions of Ann, who cleansed her as though she had been a
doorstep, she paced slowly up and down the path. Upon these occasions
of high dress a spirit of Sabbath calm was wont to descend upon her and
save her from escapades to which in a less severe garb she was somewhat
prone.
She stopped at the gate and looked up the road. Then her face flushed,
and she cast her eyes behind her to make sure that the hall-door stood
open. The hated scion of the house of Hardy was coming down the road,
and, in view of that fact, she forgot all else—even her manners.
The boy, still fresh from the loss of his natural protector, kept a
wary eye on the house as he approached. Then all expression died out of
his face, and he passed the gate, blankly ignoring the small girl who
was leaning over it and apparently suffering from elephantiasis of the
tongue. He went by quietly, and Miss Nugent, raging inwardly that she
had misbehaved to no purpose, withdrew her tongue for more legitimate
uses.
“Boo,” she cried; “who had his hair pulled?”
Master Hardy pursued the even tenor of his way.
“Who’s afraid to answer me for fear my father will thrash him?” cried
the disappointed lady, raising her voice.
This was too much. The enemy retraced his steps and came up to the gate.
“You’re a rude little girl,” he said, with an insufferably grown-up air.
“Who had his hair pulled?” demanded Miss Nugent, capering wildly; “who
had his hair pulled?”
“Don’t be silly,” said Master Hardy. “Here.” He put his hand in his
pocket, and producing some nuts offered them over the gate. At this
Miss Nugent ceased her capering, and wrath possessed her that the enemy
should thus misunderstand the gravity of the situation.
“Well, give ’em to Jack, then,” pursued the boy; “he won’t say no.”
This was a distinct reflection on Jack’s loyalty, and her indignation
was not lessened by the fact that she knew it was true.
“Go away from our gate,” she stormed. “If my father catches you, you’ll
suffer.”
“Pooh!” said the dare-devil. He looked up at the house and then,
opening the gate, strode boldly into the front garden. Before this
intrusion Miss 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 her knees. There was only a slight
redness about the left, but from the right a piece of skin was
indubitably missing. This knee she gave Ann instructions to foment
with fair water of a comfortable temperature, indulging in satisfied
prognostications as to the fate of Master Hardy when her father should
see the damage.
The news, when the captain came home, was broken to him by degrees. He
was first shown the flower-beds by Ann, then Mrs. Kingdom brought in
various soiled garments, and at the psychological moment his daughter
bared her knees.
“What will you do to him, father?” she inquired.
The captain ignored the question in favour of a few remarks on the
subject of his daughter’s behaviour, coupled with stern inquiries as to
where she learnt such tricks. In reply Miss Nugent sheltered herself
behind a list which contained the names of all the young gentlemen who
attended her kindergarten class and many of the young ladies, and again
inquired as to the fate of her assailant.
Jack came in soon after, and the indefatigable Miss Nugent produced her
knees again. She had to describe the injury to the left, but the right
spoke for itself. Jack gazed at it with indignation, and then, without
waiting for his tea, put on his cap and sallied out again.
He returned an hour later, and instead of entering the sitting-room
went straight upstairs to bed, from whence he sent down word by the
sympathetic Ann that he was suffering from a bad headache, which he
proposed to treat with raw meat applied to the left eye. His nose,
which was apparently suffering from sympathetic inflammation, he left
to take care of itself, that organ bitterly resenting any treatment
whatsoever.
He described the battle to Kate and Ann the next day, darkly ascribing
his defeat to a mysterious compound which Jem Hardy was believed to rub
into his arms; to a foolish error of judgment at the beginning of the
fray, and to the sun which shone persistently in his eyes all the time.
His audience received the explanations in chilly silence.
“And he said it was an accident he knocked you down,” he concluded; “he
said he hoped you weren’t hurt, and he gave me some toffee for you.”
[Illustration: “Master Hardy on the beach enacting the part of David.”]
“What did you do with it?” demanded Miss Nugent.
“I knew you wouldn’t have it,” replied her brother, inconsequently,
“and there wasn’t much of it.”
His sister regarded him sharply.
“You don’t mean to say you ate it?” she screamed.
“Why not?” demanded her brother. “I wanted comforting, I can tell you.”
“I wonder you were not too—too proud,” said Miss Nugent, bitterly.
“I’m never too proud to eat toffee,” retorted Jack, simply.
He stalked off in dudgeon at the lack of sympathy displayed by his
audience, and being still in need of comforting sought it amid the
raspberry-canes.
His father noted his son’s honourable scars, but made no comment. As to
any action on his own part, he realized to the full the impotence of
a law-abiding and dignified citizen when confronted by lawless youth.
But Master Hardy came to church no more. Indeed, the following Sunday
he was fully occupied on the beach, enacting the part of David, after
first impressing the raving Mr. Wilks into that of Goliath.