Part 2 (1/2)
”You would be in rags, too, if you had to buy your own clothes. I think I should respect you very much more under the circ.u.mstances,”
returned his father.
”The colonel's a-givin' it to him,” thought John, with a grin.
”'Twon't do the young master any harm.”
”What is your name?” inquired Colonel Preston, turning now to our hero, as his son seemed to have no more to say.
”Andy Burke.”
”Do you live here?”
”I've just come to town, sir. My mother lives here.”
”Where does she live?”
”I don't know, sir, just. He knows,” pointing out John.
”I calcerlate his mother lives in old Jake Barlow's house,” said John.
”Oh, the Widow Burke. Yes, I know. I believe Mrs. Preston employs her sometimes. Well, Andy, if that's your name, how is it that I catch you fighting with my son? That is not very creditable, unless you have good cause.”
”He called my mother a low woman,” said Andy, ”and then he run up and hit me.”
”Did you do that, G.o.dfrey?”
”He was putting on too many airs. He talked as if he was my equal.”
”He appears to be more than your equal in strength,” said his father.
”Well, was that all?”
”It was about all.”
”Then I think he did perfectly right, and I hope you'll profit by the lesson you have received.”
”He is a gentleman,” thought Andy. ”He ain't hard on a boy because he's poor.”
Colonel Preston went into the house, but G.o.dfrey lingered behind a moment. He wanted to have a parting shot at his adversary. He could fight with words, if not with blows.
”Look here!” he said, imperiously; ”don't let me see you round here again.”
”Why not?”
”I don't want to see you.”
”Then you can look the other way,” said Andy, independently.
”This is my house.”