Master Arthur squeezed his friend’s arm tightly, but said nothing, and both the young men were silent; but Bill could not restrain his tears.  It seemed the saddest story he had ever heard, and Mr. Lindsay’s hand upon his shoulder shook so intolerably whilst he was speaking, that he had taken it away, which made Bill worse, and he fairly sobbed.

“What are you blubbering about, young ’un?” said Mr. Lindsay.  “He is better off than any of us, and if you are a good boy you will see him some day;” and the young gentleman put his hand back again, which was steady now.

“What became of the other fellow?” said Master Arthur.

“He was taken away, of course.  Sent abroad, I believe.  It was hushed up.  And now you know,” added Mr. Lindsay, “why my native indolence has roused itself to get this cad taught a lesson, which many a time I wished to GOD when wishes were too late, that that other bully had been taught in time.  But no one could thrash him; and no one durst complain.  However, let’s change the subject, old fellow!  I’ve got over it long since:  though sometimes I think the wish to see Regy again helps to keep me a decent sort of fellow.  But when I saw the likeness this morning, it startled me; and then to hear the story, it seemed like a dream—­the Gordon affair over again.  I suppose rustic nerves are tougher; however, your village blackguard shan’t have the chance of committing murder if we can cure him!”

“I believe you half wanted to undertake the cure yourself,” said Master Arthur.

Mr. Lindsay laughed.

“I did for a minute.  Fancy your father’s feelings if I had come home with a black eye from an encounter with a pot-house bully!  You know I put my foot into a tender secret of your man’s, by offering to be the performer!”

“How?”

Mr. Lindsay lowered his voice, but not so that Bill could not hear what he said, and recognize the imitation of John Gardener.

“He said, ’I’d rather do it, if you please, Sir.  The fact is, I’m partial to the young woman myself!’ After that, I could but leave John to defend his young woman’s belongings.”

“Gently!” exclaimed Master Arthur.  “There is the Yew Walk.”

From this moment the conversation was carried on in whispers, to Bill’s further mystification.  The young gentlemen recovered their spirits, and kept exploding in smothered chuckles of laughter.

“Cold work for him if he’s been waiting long!” whispered one.

“Don’t know.  His head’s under cover, remember!” said the other:  and they laughed.

“Bet you sixpence he’s been smearing his hand with brimstone for the last half hour.”

“Don’t smell him yet, though.”

“He’ll be a patent aphis-destroyer in the rose-garden for months to come.”

“Sharp work for the eyelids if it gets under the sheet.”