/Whack! whack! whack!/ came the ground ash on Johnnie's
tight clothes. He yelled, swore and struggled in the grip of the
sturdy countryman, but it was of no use, the ash came down like fate;
never was a Johnnie so bastinadoed before.
"Give it the brute, give it him," shrilled the fair Edithia,
bethinking her of her wrongs, and he did till he was tired.
"Now, Johnnie boar," he panted at last, "I'm thinking I've pretty nigh
whacked you to dead. Perhaps you'll larn to be more careful how you
handles your betters by-and-by." Then seizing his hat he ran down the
stairs without seeing anybody and slipping into the street crossed
over and listened.
They were at it again. Seeing her enemy prostrate the Tiger had fallen
on him, with the fire-irons to judge from the noise.
Just then a policeman hurried up.
"I say, master," said George, "the folk in that there house with the
red pillars do fare to be a murdering of each other."
The policeman listened to the din and then made for the house.
Profiting by his absence George retreated as fast as he could, his
melancholy countenance shining with sober satisfaction.
On the following morning, before he returned to Honham, George paid a
visit to St. Bartholomew's Church, Hackney. Here he made certain
investigations in the registers, the results of which were not
unsatisfactory to him.
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