We'll have a night of it." "You must excuse me," said the boy, torn between Reginald on the one hand and the fear of offending Durfy on the other.
The latter began to take in the position of affairs, and his temper evaporated accordingly.
"I won't excuse you; that's all about it," he said; "let go that snivelling lout's arm and do what you're told.

Let the boy alone, do you hear ?" added he, addressing Reginald, "and take yourself off.

Come along, Gedge." "Gedge is not going with you," said Reginald, keeping the boy's arm in his; "he's coming with me, aren't you, young 'un ?" The boy pressed his arm gratefully, but made no reply.
This was all Mr Durfy wanted to fill up the vials of his wrath.
"You miserable young hound you," said he, with an oath; "let go the boy this moment, or I'll turn you out of the place--and him too." Reginald made no reply.

His face was pale, but he kept the boy's arm still fast in his own.
"Going with you, indeed ?" shouted Mr Durfy; "going with you, is he?
to learn how to cant and sing psalms! Not if I know it--or if he does, you and he and your brother and your old fool of a mother--" Mr Durfy never got to the end of that sentence.

A blow straight from the shoulder of the Wilderham captain sent him sprawling on the pavement before the word was well out of his mouth.
It had come now.