"
"What!" roared Mr. Moffat, "pull my nose? MY NOSE! I'll tell you
what, my lad, if you durst move me, I'll cut your throat, curse me!"
"Oh, Moffy--cousin, I mean--'tis a shame to treat the poor boy so.
Go away, Tommy; do go away; my cousin's in liquor," whimpered Madam
Briggs, who really thought that the great doorkeeper would put his
threat into execution.
"Tommy!" said Mr. Moffat, frowning horribly; "Tommy to me too? Dog,
get out of my ssss---" SIGHT was the word which Mr. Moffat intended
to utter; but he was interrupted; for, to the astonishment of his
friends and himself, Mr. Billings did actually make a spring at the
monster's nose, and caught it so firmly, that the latter could not
finish his sentence.
The operation was performed with amazing celerity; and, having
concluded it, Mr. Billings sprang back, and whisked from out its
sheath that new silver-hilted sword which his mamma had given him.
"Now," said he, with a fierce kind of calmness, "now for the
throat-cutting, cousin: I'm your man!"
How the brawl might have ended, no one can say, had the two
gentlemen actually crossed swords; but Mrs. Polly, with a wonderful
presence of mind, restored peace by exclaiming, "Hush, hush! the
beaks, the beaks!" Upon which, with one common instinct, the whole
party made a rush for the garden gates, and disappeared into the
fields.
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