“You are a most extraordinary man.  All this is so contrary to your usual caution.”

“When you are driven against the ropes, ‘hit out’ is the old rule of Fistiana and common sense.  It is an extreme bore:  all the more reason for showing such an ugly front, as to give people no chance of its happening again.  Nothing so dangerous as half-measures, Headley.  ‘Resist the devil, and he will flee from you,’ your creed says.  Mine only translates it into practice.”

“I have no liking for half-measures myself.”

“Did you ever,” said Tom, “hear the story of the two Sandhurst broom-squires?”

“Broomsquires?”

“So we call, in Berkshire, squatters on the moor who live by tying heath into brooms.  Two of them met in Reading market once, and fell out:—­

“’How ever do you manage to sell your brooms for three halfpence?  I steals the heth, and I steals the binds, and I steals the handles:  and yet I can’t afoord to sell ’em under twopence.’

“Ah, but you see,’ says the other, ‘I steals mine ready made.’

“Moral—­If you’re going to do a thing, do it outright.”

That very evening, Tom came in again.

“Well; I’ve been to Trebooze.”

“And fared, how?”

“Just as I warned you.  Inquired into his symptoms; prescribed for his digestion—­if he goes on as he is doing, he will soon have none left to prescribe for; and, finally, plastered, with a sublime generosity, the nose which my own knuckles had contused.”

“Impossible! you are the most miraculously impudent of men!”

“Pish! simple common sense.  I knew that Mrs. Trebooze would suspect that the world had heard of his mishap, and took care to let her know that I knew, by coming up to inquire for him.”

“Cui bono?”

“Power.  To have them, or any one, a little more in my power.  Next, I knew that he dared not fly out at me, for fear I should tell Mrs. Trebooze what he had been after—­you see?  Ah, it was delicious to have the great oaf sitting sulking under my fingers, longing to knock my head off, and I plastering away, with words of deepest astonishment and condolence.  I verily believe that, before we parted, I had persuaded him that his black eye proceeded entirely from his having run up against a tree in the dark.”

“Well,” said Frank, half sadly, though enjoying the joke in spite of himself, “I cannot help thinking it would have been a fit moment for giving the poor wretch a more solemn lesson.”

“My dear sir,—­a good licking—­and he had one, and something over—­is the best lesson for that manner of biped.  That’s the way to school him:  but as we are on lessons, I’ll give you a hint.”

“Go on, model of self-sufficiency!” said Frank.

“Scoff at me if you will, I am proof.  But hearken—­you mustn’t turn out that schoolmistress.  She’s an angel, and I know it; and if I say so of any human being, you may be sure I have pretty good reasons.”