e. "He's a young sneak, that's what he is, and wants a
good basting, and he'll get it, too."

"Not so fast now," says Joe, sticking out his elbows to broaden
himself. "I know you, Master Vetch, and 'tis my belief you and
Master Cludde are just nought but a brace of bullies, and you ought
to be ashamed of yourselves, Master Cludde in particular, seeing as
the little lad be your own cousin."

"You shut your mouth, Joe Punchard!" shouts Cludde in a passion.
"He my cousin, indeed!--the mean little charity brat!"

"And a blubbering baby, too!" says Vetch, "cries before he is
hurt."

"'Tis not much good crying after," says Joe with a chuckle, before
I could protest that I was not crying; I always did hate a
blubbering boy.

"Now you two boys be off," Joe went on. "I'm going home, and I'll
see to it you don't bait Master Bold no more this side of the
Bridge. And what's more, I tell you this: that if I cotch you two
great chaps worriting the boy again, I'll take and leather you,
both of you, and that's flat."

"Try it, bandy-legs," said Vetch with a sneer. "We'll do as we
please, and if you dare to lay a hand on either of us, I'll--I'll--"

"What'll you do, then?" says Joe, who all this while had been
spreading himself in front of me. "What'll you do then? D'you think
I care a farden what you'll do? You'd better behave pretty, Master
Vetch, or 'twill be worse for you, my young cockchafer."

At this the two boys backed a little, and Joe, thinking them
daunted by his threatening mien, turned to take down the key of the
shop from its nail on the wall. But he had no sooner left my side
than Vetch sprang forward, and catching me by the arm, gave it a
cunning twist that, in spite of myself, made me shriek with pain.
Joe was round in an instant, and made for my tormentor, who with
Cludde ran towards the door. But in their endeavor to escape they
impeded each other: Vetch tripped, and before he could recover his
footing Joe had him in an iron grip, and began to shake him as I
had many times seen our terrier shake a rat he had caught in the
barn.

"Let me go!" yells Cyrus. "Help, Dick! Kick his shins!"

But Cludde, though a big fellow enough, was never over ready to put
his head in chancery. He stood in the street, shaking his fist, and
writhing his face into terrible grimaces at me.

"Let me go!" cries Vetch again.

"You young viper!" says Joe, shaking him still. "You'll misuse the
little lad before my face, will you?