Here Mr. Cross thrust his tongue into his cheek, and made a hideous contortion of countenance calculated to convey an impression of his own extreme artfulness and of his contempt for the old farmer’s short-sightedness. His own vision, perhaps, might with advantage have been a little clearer; a man of quicker perceptions would have realised that Richard’s persistent silence was more fraught with danger to him than a torrent of wrathful words. He was, therefore, considerably surprised when Marshall suddenly brought down his vigorous right hand upon the cheek at that moment distended by Samuel’s malevolent tongue, and, before he had time to spring backwards, the other palm inflicted similar chastisement on its fellow. The lawyer’s clerk gasped, spluttered, and finally uttered a choking howl. ‘Hang you! You’ve made me nearly bite my tongue off!’ ‘Serve you right if I had,’ cried Richard. ‘You little reptile, if you so much as say another word of this kind I’ll half kill you!’ He had seized Samuel by the shoulders and was now shaking him slowly backwards and forwards: ‘Do you take back every word of your vile slanders?’ ‘Ye—ye—yes,’ gasped Cross, in an agony of terror. ‘Will you give me your word to keep that foul tongue of yours quiet in future?’ ‘Oh Lord, yes, Richard Marshall. For Heaven’s sake let me go! You’ve about half killed me as it is!’ Richard released him with a parting admonition to look out, and Cross went on his way with a staggering gait, and stuffing his pocket-handkerchief into his mouth. Richard, still in a white heat of passion, was striding along at a tremendous rate, when he suddenly observed the large white-clad person of his uncle standing contemplatively some twenty yards away from the scene of the encounter. His good humoured face wore a pleasant and satisfied smile. ‘Well done, lad!’ he remarked, as soon as Richard came within hearing. ‘Ye did give it ’en in style! I never did see nothing more neat. I do rather think, Richard, as Mr. Sam’el Cross ’ull have the toothache. I d’ ’low he will.’ ‘I only wish I had made every bone in his body ache!’ cried Richard, still fuming. ‘I d’ ’low as he said something as ann’yed ’ee, Richard,’ said the farmer, ceasing his placid chuckles and looking intently at his nephew. ‘Yes,’ returned Richard, ‘he annoyed me very much. He—in point of fact, he insulted me.’ ‘Well, now,’ commented Isaac, ‘that was strange. I did n’t think he’d insult ’ee to your face, Richard. He was a-talkin’ to me jist now, and he did say some very insultin’ things agen you—but that was behind your back, d’ ye see? I did n’t think the chap would acshally go for to say ’em to your face.’ ‘What did he say of me?’ said Richard breathlessly.