They were so sitting, rather glum, when the door swung open, and a heavy, quick step was heard advancing towards them.

It was the squire; whose arrival there had been momentarily expected.
"Frank," said he--"Frank, what on earth is all this ?" and as he spoke he stretched out both hands, the right to his son and the left to his friend.
"He has given a blackguard a licking, that is all," said Harry.
Frank felt that his hand was held with a peculiarly warm grasp; and he could not but think that his father's face, raised though his eyebrows were--though there was on it an intended expression of amazement and, perhaps, regret--nevertheless he could not but think that his father's face looked kindly at him.
"God bless my soul, my dear boy! what have you done to the man ?" "He's not a ha'porth the worse, sir," said Frank, still holding his father's hand.
"Oh, isn't he!" said Harry, shrugging his shoulders.

"He must be made of some very tough article then." "But my dear boys, I hope there's no danger.

I hope there's no danger." "Danger!" said Frank, who could not yet induce himself to believe that he had been allowed a fair chance with Mr Moffat.
"Oh, Frank! Frank! how could you be so rash?
In the middle of Pall Mall, too.

Well! well! well! All the women down at Greshamsbury will have it that you have killed him." "I almost wish I had," said Frank.
"Oh, Frank! Frank! But now tell me--" And then the father sat well pleased while he heard, chiefly from Harry Baker, the full story of his son's prowess.