He hauled the bruised wretch up by the collar, crammed his hat on his head and cut him across the calves with his own walking stick. “Go on! March!” “Can’t you leave me alone now?” whined Butson. “You done enough, ain’t ye?” “No—not near enough. An’ you’ll have a lot more if you don’t do as I tell you. I said I’d take you home, an’ I will. Go on!” Two or three dark streets led to Harbour Lane, but they were short. It was past closing time, and when they reached the shop the lights were turned down and the door shut. Nan opened to Johnny’s knock, and he thrust Butson in before him. “Here he is,” said Johnny, “not thrashed half enough!” Dusty and bleeding, his face nigh unrecognisable under cuts and bruises, Butson sat on a box, a figure of shame. Nan screamed and ran to him. “I did it where the neighbours wouldn’t hear,” Johnny explained, “and if he’d been a man he’d have drowned himself rather than come here, after the way I’ve treated him. He’s a poor cur, an’ I’ll buy a whip for him. There’s the money I promised you” he went on, putting it on the box. “It’s the first you’ve earned for years, and the last you’ll have here, if I can manage it!” But Nan was crying over that dishonourable head, and wiping it with her handkerchief. XXX. “WHY what’s that?” said Long Hicks on the way to work in the morning. “Got cuts all over yer hands!” “Yes,” Johnny answered laconically. “Fighting.” “Fightin’!” Long Hicks looked mighty reproachful. “Jest you be careful what company you’re gettin’ into,” he said severely. “You’re neglectin’ yer drawin’ and everything lately, an’ now—fightin’!” “I ain’t ashamed of it,” Johnny replied gloomily. “An’ I’ve got other things to think about now, besides drawing.” Hicks stared, stuttered a little, and rubbed his cap over his head. He wondered whether or not he ought to ask questions. They went a little way in silence, and then Johnny said: “It’s him; Butson.” “No!” exclaimed Hicks, checking in his stride, and staring at Johnny again. “What! Bin fightin’ Butson?” Johnny poured out the whole story; and as he told Hicks’s eyes widened, his face flushed and paled, his hands opened and closed convulsively, and again and again he blew and stuttered incomprehensibly. “Job is, to drive the brute away,” Johnny concluded wearily. “He’ll stop as long as he’s fed. An’ mother thinks it’s a disgrace to get a separation—goin’ before a magistrate an’ all. I’m only tellin’ you because I know you won’t jaw about it among the neighbours.” That day Long Hicks got leave of absence for the rest of the week, mightily astonishing Mr. Cottam by the application, for Hicks had never been known to take a holiday before. “’Awright,” the gaffer growled, “seein’ as we’re slack. There’s one or two standin’ auf for a bit a’ready. But what’s up with you wantin’ time auf? Gittin’ frisky? Runnin’ arter the gals?”