“Oh,” said Master Hardy, blankly.

The two gentlemen stood regarding each other with uneasy grins; the lady stood by in breathless expectation.  The suspense became painful.

[Illustration:  “The suspense became painful.”]

“Who are you staring at?” demanded Master Nugent, at last.

“You,” replied the other; “who are you staring at?”

“You,” said Master Nugent, defiantly.

There was a long interval, both gentlemen experiencing some difficulty in working up sufficient heat for the engagement.

“You hit me and see what you’ll get,” said Master Hardy, at length.

“You hit me,” said the other.

“Cowardy, cowardy custard,” chanted the well-bred Miss Nugent, “ate his mother’s mustard.  Cowardy, cowardy cus—­”

“Why don’t you send that kid home?” demanded Master Hardy, eyeing the fair songstress with strong disfavour.

“You leave my sister alone,” said the other, giving him a light tap on the shoulder.  “There’s your coward’s blow.”

Master Hardy made a ceremonious return.  “There’s yours,” he said.  “Let’s go behind the church.”

His foe assented, and they proceeded in grave silence to a piece of grass screened by trees, which stood between the church and the beach.  Here they removed their coats and rolled up their shirt-sleeves.  Things look different out of doors, and to Miss Nugent the arms of both gentlemen seemed somewhat stick-like in their proportions.

The preliminaries were awful, both combatants prancing round each other with their faces just peering above their bent right arms, while their trusty lefts dealt vicious blows at the air.  Miss Nugent turned pale and caught her breath at each blow, then she suddenly reddened with wrath as James Philip Hardy, having paid his tribute to science, began to hammer John Augustus Nugent about the face in a most painful and workmanlike fashion.

She hid her face for a moment, and when she looked again Jack was on the ground, and Master Hardy just rising from his prostrate body.  Then Jack rose slowly and, crossing over to her, borrowed her handkerchief and applied it with great tenderness to his nose.

“Does it hurt, Jack?” she inquired, anxiously.  “No,” growled her brother.

He threw down the handkerchief and turned to his opponent again; Miss Nugent, who was careful about her property, stooped to recover it, and immediately found herself involved in a twisting tangle of legs, from which she escaped by a miracle to see Master Hardy cuddling her brother round the neck with one hand and punching him as hard and as fast as he could with the other.  The unfairness of it maddened her, and the next moment Master Hardy’s head was drawn forcibly backwards by the hair.  The pain was so excruciating that he released his victim at once, and Miss Nugent, emitting a series of terrified yelps, dashed off in the direction of home, her hair bobbing up and down on her shoulders, and her small black legs in an ecstasy of motion.