The One Moss-Rose | Page 4

he would sell the fowls.
"They're not for sale, master," said the boy; "they belong to my young sister, and she wouldn't sell those bantams for any money,--there isn't a cock to match that one in all the country round."
"I'll give a sovereign for them," said James Courtenay.
"No, not ten," answered Jim Meyers.
"Then I'll take them, and no thanks," said the young squire; and so saying, he flung Jim Meyers the sovereign, and began to hunt the bantams into a corner of the yard.
"I say," cried Jim, "leave off hunting those bantams, master, or I must call my father."
"Your father!" cried the young squire; "and pray, who's your father? You're a pretty fellow to talk about a father; take care I don't bring my father to you;" and having said this, he made a dart at the cock bantam, that he had by this time driven into a corner.
"Look here," said Jim, doubling his fists. "You did a bad job, young master, by Jacob Dobbin; you were the death of him, and I won't have you the death of my little sister, by, maybe, her fretting herself to death about these birds, so you look out, and if you touch one of these birds, come what will of it, I'll touch you."
"Who ever said I did Jacob Dobbin any harm?" asked James Courtenay, his face as pale as ashes; "I never laid a hand upon the brat."
"Brat or no brat," answered Jim Meyers, "you were the death of him; you made him burst a blood-vessel, and I say you murdered him." This was too much for James Courtenay to bear, so without more ado, he flew upon Jim Meyers, intending to pommel him well; but Jim was not to be so easily pommelled; he stood upon his guard, and soon dealt the young squire such a blow between the eyes that he had no more power to fight.
"Vengeance! vengeance!" cried the angry youth. "I'll make you pay dearly for this;" and slinking away, he got upon his pony and rode rapidly home.
It may be easily imagined that on the young squire's arrival at the Hall, in so melancholy a plight, the whole place was in terrible confusion. Servants ran hither and thither, old Aggie went off for some ice, and the footman ran to the stable to send the groom for the doctor, and the whole house was turned upside down.
In the midst of all this, James Courtenay's father came home, and great indeed was his rage when he heard that his son had received this beating on his own property, and from the hands of a son of one of his own tenantry; and his rage became greater and greater as the beaten boy gave a very untrue account of what had occurred. "I was admiring a bantam of Meyers," said he to his father, "and his son flew upon me like a tiger, and hit me between the eyes."
Squire Courtenay determined to move in the matter at once, so he sent a groom to summon the Meyers--both father and son. "I'll make Meyers pay dearly for this," said the squire; "his lease is out next Michaelmas, and I shall not renew it; and, besides, I'll prosecute his son."
All this delighted the young squire, and every minute seemed to him to be an hour, until the arrival of the two Meyers, upon whom ample vengeance was to be wreaked; and the pain of his eyes seemed as nothing, so sweet was the prospect of revenge.
In the course of an hour the two Meyers arrived, and with much fear and trembling were shown into their landlord's presence.
"Meyers," cried the squire, in great wrath, "you leave your farm at Michaelmas; and as to that young scoundrel, your son, I'll have him before the bench next bench-day, and I'll see whether I can't make him pay for such tricks as these."
"What have I done," asked old Meyers, "to deserve being turned adrift? If your honour will hear the whole of the story about this business, I don't believe you'll turn me out on the cold world, after being on that land nigh-hand forty years."
"'Hear!' I have heard enough about it; your son dared to lift a hand to mine, and--and I'll have no tenant on my estate that will ever venture upon such an outrage as that;--it was a great compliment to you for my son to admire your bantams, or anything on your farm, without his being subjected to such an assault."
"I don't want to excuse my boy," said old Meyers, "for touching the young squire; and right sorry I am that he ever lifted a hand to him; but begging your honour's pardon, the young squire provoked him to it, and he did a great deal more than just admire my