"About drawing the house, come when you choose," said Mr. Burt, rising. "It may take more than one, or even three or four afternoons, Sir, to do it properly." "Well, well. If I'm not at home ask for Mrs. Simcoe, d'ye hear? Mrs. Simcoe. She will attend to you." Abel bowed very respectfully and as if he were controlling a strong desire to kneel and kiss the foot of his Holiness, Christopher Burt; but he mastered himself, and Hiram opened the front door. "Good-by, Hiram," said. Abel, putting a piece of money into his hand. "Oh no, Sir," said Hiram, pocketing the coin. Abel walked sedately down the steps, and looked carefully around him. He scanned the windows; he glanced under the trees; but he saw nothing. He did every thing, in fact, but study the house which he had been asking permission to draw. He looked as if for something or somebody who did not appear. But as Hiram still stood watching him, he moved away. He walked faster as he approached the gate. He opened it; flung it to behind him, broke into a little trot, and almost tumbled over Gabriel Bennet and Little Malacca as he did so. The collision was rude, and the three boys stopped. "You'd better look where you're going," said Gabriel, sharply, his cheeks reddening and swelling. Abel's first impulse was to strike; but he restrained himself, and in the most contemptuous way said merely, "Ah, the Reverend Gabriel Bennet!" He had scarcely spoken when Gabriel fell upon him like a young lion. So sudden and impetuous was his attack that for a moment Abel was confounded. He gave way a little, and was well battered almost before he could strike in return. Then his strong arms began to tell. He was confident of victory, and calmer than his antagonist; but it was like fighting a flame, so fierce and rapid were Gabriel's strokes. Little Malacca looked on in amazement and terror. "Don't! don't!" cried he, as he saw the faces of the fighters. "Oh, don't! Abel, you'll kill him!" For Abel was now fully aroused. He was seriously hurt by Gabriel's blows. "Don't! there's somebody coming!" cried Little Malacca, with the tears in his eyes, as the sound of a carriage was heard driving down the hill. The combatants said nothing. The faces of both of them were bruised, and the blood was flowing. Gabriel was clearly flagging; and Abel's face was furious as he struck his heavy blows, under which the smaller boy staggered, but did not yet succumb. "Oh, please! please!" cried Little Malacca, imploringly, the tears streaming down his face. At that moment Abel Newt drew back, aimed a tremendous blow at Gabriel, and delivered it with fearful force upon his head. The smaller boy staggered, reeled, threw up his arms, and fell heavily forward into the road, senseless. "You've killed him! You've killed him!" sobbed Little Malacca, piteously, kneeling down and bending over Gabriel.