‘Thunder and lightning and guns’ old Peterkin exclaimed, while the spittle flew from his mouth like the spray from Niagara.  ’I assault and batter Jerry Crawford!—­a gal!  What do you take me for, young man?  I’m a gentleman, I be, if I ain’t a Tracy; and I never salted nor battered nobody, and she’ll tell you so herself.  Heavens and earth! this is the way ‘twas,’ and Peterkin shook from his head to his feet—­for, like most men who clamor so loudly for the law, he had a mortal terror of it for himself, and Tom’s threatening looks and words made him afraid.  ’This is how ’twas.  I found her in the Tramp-House, and I was all-fired mad at her about somethin’—­I shan’t tell what, for Bill would kill me; but I pitched into her right and left; and, by gum, she pitched into me, so that for a spell it was nip-and-tuck betwixt us; and, by George, if she didn’t order me out of the Tramp-House, and said it was her’n; and I’ll be dumbed if I don’t believe she’d av put me out, too, body and bones, if I hadn’t gone.  She was just like a tiger; and, I swan, I was kinder feared on her, and backed out with a kinder flourish of my fist on that darned old rotten table, which went all to smash; and that’s all I know.  You don’t call that ‘sault and batter, do you?’

Tom could not say that he did, but he replied: 

’That’s your version of it.  Jerrie may have another, and her friends ain’t going to have her abused by a chap like you; and my advice is that you hold your tongue, both about her and Harold.  It will he better for you.  Do you understand?’

‘You bet!’ Peterkin said, with a meaning nod, breathing a little more freely as he caught sight of the highest tower of Lubbertoo, and more freely still when he arrived at the station, where he was met by his coat-of-arms carriage, instead of a writ, and was suffered to go peaceably home, a disappointed, if not a better man.

CHAPTER XLIII.

HAROLD AND JERRIE.

The news which so electrified all Shannondale was slow in reaching Mrs. Crawford, but it did reach her at last, crushing and overwhelming her with a sense of shame and anguish, until as the day wore on, Grace Atherton, and Mrs. St. Claire, and Nina, and many others came to reassure her, and to say that it was all a mistake, which would be soon cleared up.

Thus comforted and consoled, she tried to be calm, and wait patiently for the train.  But there was a great pity for her boy in her heart as she sat by Jerrie’s bedside and watched her in all her varying moods, now perfectly quiet, with her wide open eyes staring up at the ceiling as if she were seeing something there, now talking of Peterkin, and the Tramp House, and the table, and the blow, and again of the bag, which she said was lost, and which her grandmother must find.

Thinking she meant the carpet bag, Mrs. Crawford brought that to her, but she tossed it aside impatiently saying: