the face; the sight of the murdered game-cock had sickened him.

"He doesn't look flourishing." Sir Harry mimicked the Squire's recent
manner.

Taffy turned with the look of a hunted animal. He did not want to
fight. He hated this house and its inhabitants. The other boy was
stripping off his jacket with a good-humoured smile.

"I--I don't want--" Taffy began fumbling with a button. "Please--"

"Off with your coat, boy! You were game enough t'other day. If you
lick en, I'll put a new roof on your father's church."

Taffy was still fumbling with his jacket-button when a bell sounded,
clanging through the house.

"The parson!"

Squire Moyle clutched at his Bible like a child who has been caught
playing in school. Sir Harry stepped to the window and flung up the
sash. "Out you tumble, youngsters--you too, Miss, if you like.
Pick up your coat, George--cut and run to the stables; I'll be round
in a minute--quick, out you go!"

The children scrambled over the sill and dropped on to the stone
terrace. As his father closed the sash behind him, George Vyell
laughed out. Then Taffy began to laugh; he laughed all the way as
they ran. When they reached the stables he was swaying with
laughter. There was a hepping-stock by the stable-wall, and he flung