“It would have been better, if I had, to thee,” he replied with much compassion; “thy hat is nearly off thy head with the swelling of brain I have given thee.  Blows, blows, are thy business, Jack.  There thou art in thine element.  And, haply, this business will bring thee plenty even for thy great head to take.  Now hearken to one who wishes thee well, and plainly sees the end of it—­stick thou to the winning side, and have naught to do with the other one.”

“That,” said I, in great haste and hurry, “is the very thing I want to do, if I only knew which was the winning side, for the sake of Lorna—­that is to say, for the sake of my dear mother and sisters, and the farm.”

“Ha!” cried Jeremy Stickles, laughing at the redness of my face—­“Lorna, saidst thou; now what Lorna?  Is it the name of a maiden, or a light-o’-love?”

“Keep to your own business,” I answered, very proudly; “spy as much as e’er thou wilt, and use our house for doing it, without asking leave or telling; but if I ever find thee spying into my affairs, all the King’s lifeguards in London, and the dragoons thou bringest hither, shall not save thee from my hand—­or one finger is enough for thee.”

Being carried beyond myself by his insolence about Lorna, I looked at Master Stickles so, and spake in such a voice, that all his daring courage and his spotless honour quailed within him, and he shrank—­as if I would strike so small a man.

Then I left him, and went to work at the sacks upon the corn-floor, to take my evil spirit from me before I should see mother.  For (to tell the truth) now my strength was full, and troubles were gathering round me, and people took advantage so much of my easy temper, sometimes when I was over-tried, a sudden heat ran over me, and a glowing of all my muscles, and a tingling for a mighty throw, such as my utmost self-command, and fear of hurting any one, could but ill refrain.  Afterwards, I was always very sadly ashamed of myself, knowing how poor a thing bodily strength is, as compared with power of mind, and that it is a coward’s part to misuse it upon weaker folk.  For the present there was a little breach between Master Stickles and me, for which I blamed myself very sorely.  But though, in full memory of his kindness and faithfulness in London, I asked his pardon many times for my foolish anger with him, and offered to undergo any penalty he would lay upon me, he only said it was no matter, there was nothing to forgive.  When people say that, the truth often is that they can forgive nothing.

So for the present a breach was made between Master Jeremy and myself, which to me seemed no great loss, inasmuch as it relieved me from any privity to his dealings, for which I had small liking.  All I feared was lest I might, in any way, be ungrateful to him; but when he would have no more of me, what could I do to help it?  However, in a few days’ time I was of good service to him, as you shall see in its proper place.