CHAPTER II.
"GO YOUR OWN WAY YOU UNGRATEFUL MINX" The mob roared approval at the prospect of a fight, and though the combatants were unfairly matched some of the ruffians urged the girl to retaliate.
"Go for her hair, little un," one shouted.

"There's plenty of it.

Once you get a fair hold and tear out a handful she'll squeak, I'll warrant." The advice was not taken and maybe nobody expected it would be.

Anyway, before Sally could renew the attack her arm was seized by a man, slight in stature and with a naturally humorous expression on his lean narrow face and in his bright twinkling eyes.
"Enough of this brawling, mistress.

If you _must_ fight choose someone as big and as strong as yourself, not a lambkin." The crowd knew him and whispers went round.