He was writhing strenuously in order to
frustrate Mr. Wilks's evident desire to arrange him comfortably for the
administration of the stick he was carrying. Satisfied at last, the
ex-steward raised his weapon, and for some seconds plied it briskly.
Miss Nugent trembled, but sternly repressing sympathy for the sufferer,
was pleased that the long arm of justice had at last over-taken him.
"Let him go now, Sam," she said; "he's crying."
"I'm not," yelled Master Hardy, frantically.
"I can see the tears," declared Miss Nugent, bending.
Mr. Wilks plied the rod again until his victim, with a sudden turn,
fetched him a violent kick on the shin and broke loose. The ex-steward
set off in pursuit, somewhat handicapped by the fact that he dare not go
over flower-beds, whilst Master Hardy was singularly free from such
prejudices. Miss Nugent ran to the side-entrance to cut off his retreat.
She was willing for him to be released, but not to escape, and so it fell
out that the boy, dodging beneath Mr. Wilks's outspread arms, charged
blindly up the side-entrance and bowled the young lady over.
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