"And lastly," he said, "I thank this boy for thrashing me--I mean this here laddie.

Oh, may he allus be near to thrash me when I strike this other lassie again.

Amen." When it was all over Tommy looked around triumphantly, and though he liked the expression on several faces, Grizel's pleased him best.

"It ain't no wonder you would like to be me, lassie!" he said, in an ecstasy.
"I don't want to be you, you conceited boy," retorted the Painted Lady's child hotly, and her heat was the greater because the clever little wretch had read her thoughts aright.

But it was her sweet voice that surprised him.
"You're English!" he cried.
"So are you," broke in a boy offensively, and then Tommy said to Grizel loftily, "Run away; I'll not let none on them touch you." "I am not afraid of them," she rejoined, with scorn, "and I shall not let you help me, and I won't run." And run she did not; she walked off leisurely with her head in the air, and her dignity was beautiful, except once when she made the mistake of turning round to put out her tongue.
But, alas! in the end someone ran.