32 MASTER SKYLARK

were scarcely out of his mouth when he found himself
stretched on the grass, Nick Attwood bending over him.

“There! thou hast seen it tried. Now come, take that
back, or I will surely box thine ears for thee.”

Hodge blinked and gaped, collecting his wits, which
had scattered to the four winds. “Whoy,” said he,
vaguely, “if ’t is all o’ that to thee, I take it back.”

Nick rose, and Hodge scrambled clumsily to his feet.
“TIL na go wi’ thee,” said he, sulkily ; “I will na go whur
I be whupped.”

Nick turned on his heel without a word, and started on.

“ An’ what ’s more,” bawled Hodge after him, “thy
Muster Wully Shaxper be-eth an old gray goose, an’ boo
to he, says I!”

As he spoke he turned, dived through the thin hedge,
and galloped across the field as if an army were at his
heels.

Nick started back, but quickly paused. “Thou needst
na run,” he called; “I’ve not the time to catch thee now.
But mind ye this, Hodge Dawson: when I do come back,
I’ll teach thee who thy betters be—Will Shakspere first
of all!”

“Well crowed, well crowed, my jolly cockerel!” on a
sudden called a keen, high voice beyond the hedge behind
him.

Nick, startled, whirled about just in time to see a
stranger leap the hedge and come striding up the road.