“There I don’t agree with you.”

“C-can you fight?”

“A bit.  Here, keep on your coat, boy, and don’t be a fool.  Hands off, you young dolt!”

There was barely room on the causeway for two to pass.  As Mr. Wright thrust by, Johnny snatched furiously at his arm and with just enough force to slew him round.  Letting go, he struck for his face.

The plumber had no wish to hurt the lad.  Being a quick man with his fists, he parried the blow easily enough.

“No more of this!” he shouted, and as Johnny leapt again, hurled him off with a backward sweep of his wrist.

He must have put more weight into it than he intended.  Johnny, flung to the very edge of the causeway, floundered twice to recover his balance; his feet slipped on the mud, and with hands clutching the air he soused into the water at Mr. Wright’s feet.

“Hallo!” called out a cheerful voice.  “Whar you two up to?”

Dick Ellison was coming down the causeway towards the house, somewhat advanced in liquor, though it wanted an hour of noon.  Wright, who knew him only by sight, did not observe this at once.  “Come and help,” he answered, dropping on his knees by the brink and offering Johnny a hand.

Johnny declined it.  He was a strong swimmer, and in a couple of strokes regained the bank and scrambled to firm ground again, dripping from head to heel and looking excessively foolish.

“Wha’s matter?” demanded Mr. Ellison again.

“Nothing he need be ashamed of,” answered Mr. Wright.  “Here, shake hands, my boy!”

But Johnny dropped his head and walked away, hiding tears of rage and shame.

“Sulky young pig,” commented Mr. Ellison, staring blearily after him.  A thought appeared to strike him.—­“Blesh me, you’re the new son-’law!”

“Yes, sir:  Miss Hetty has just honoured me with her consent.”

“Consent?  I’ll lay she had to!  Sukey—­tha’s my wife—­told me you were in the wind. I said the old man’s wrong—­all right, patching it up—­Shtill—­” He paused and corrected himself painfully. “Still, duty to c’nsult family; ’stead of which, he takes law in’s own hands.  Now list’n this, Mr.—­”

“Wright.”

“Qui-so.”  He pulled himself together again. “Quite so.  Now I say, it’s hard on the jade. You say, ’Nothing of the sort:  she’s made her bed and must lie on it.’”

“No, I don’t.”

“I—­er—­beg your pardon?  You must allow me finish my argument. I say, ’Look here, I’m a gentleman:  feelings of a gentleman’—­ You’re not a gentleman, eh?”

“Not a bit like one,” the plumber agreed cheerfully.

“Tha’s what I thought.  Allow me to say so, I respect you for it—­for speaking out, I mean.  Now what I say is, wench kicks over the traces—­serve her right wharrever happens:  but there’s family to consider—­”