“Well, sir,” said Mr. Snowdon curtly, “so you have come home at last?”
“Yes, sir. There was no letter for you.”
“Ahem! I shall have to write a letter to your guardian.”
Bernard shrugged his shoulders, but did not think it necessary to say anything, rather to the disappointment of Ezekiel, who wished to draw him out, “I find,” he said, “that you have made an outrageous assault on my innocent boy. What have you to say in extenuation of your conduct?”
“Only that your innocent boy was stoning a kitten, and bullying a young boy.”
“Even if he were, what business was it of yours?”
“It will always be my business to protect children and animals from being abused,” said Bernard warmly.
“You are a very impudent boy! Are you aware that the boy you assaulted is my son?”
“I ought to be aware of it. There isn’t another boy in town who would be guilty of such brutal conduct.”
“Are you goin’ to stand that, pa?” asked Septimus, anxious to precipitate a conflict between Bernard and his father.
“No, I am not,” said Mr. Snowdon, compressing his lips. “Get me the horsewhip.”
No command could have been more pleasant to Septimus. He ran into the house, and soon reappeared with an ordinary horsewhip with which his father was in the habit of punishing the pupils under his charge.
He handed it to his father with a malicious smile.
“There it is, pa!” he said. “Lay it on heavy.”
Mr. Snowdon did not immediately proceed to make use of the whip. Considering Bernard to be in his power, he was disposed to play with him as a cat plays with a mouse of whom it is preparing to make a victim.