u, you mischievous scum, the day will come when we
will no longer stand this swaggering and bullying. We are a patient
people; but you can provoke us too far. I know you four right well.
I would sit you in the stocks in a row, or have you whipped at the
cart's tail from Newgate to Tyburn; and perchance the day may come
when--"

But the miscreants did not wait to hear the end of this harangue.
They well knew that no tale of theirs could stand for a moment
before the witness of a man respected as Master Cale the
perruquier. Fearful lest the watch, who had let go their hold of
Tom, should in turn lay hands on them, they fled helter-skelter,
but as they went they breathed out threats of being even with Tom
another time, and he knew well that this encounter had changed them
from the merely jeering enemies they had shown themselves at first
into real antagonists full of bitter animosity and hatred.

The watch were never too eager to take up evildoers who were
possessed of swords and were strong of body. They were glad enough
that Master Cale had vouched for Tom's honesty, and that the other
four had betaken themselves away. Hard knocks and sometimes fatal
injury were often the portion of these old men, so incapable of
keeping order in the streets; and thankful were they when any fray
ended in the manner of this one.

But Cale's face was rather grave as he turned homewards, his
daughter clinging to his arm, and Tom marching upon her other side
with his head high in the air.

"I thank you, my good lad, for being so stout a champion to my
little girl," he said; "and yet I would it had not happened; for it
is ill work making enemies in these days of lawlessness and
duelling."

But Tom gave a little laugh. He had no desire to make boast of his
prowess; yet he felt that he could settle a score of quarrels with
such besotted creatures as the four he had put to rout so lately,
and be no manner the worse for it himself. He was not at all sorry
for the adventure. He felt a flutter of pride and pleasure in the
shy glances shot at him from the dark eyes beneath the crimson
hood. He had made of himself a hero in the eyes of pretty Rosamund,
and he liked that experience well enough.

"Fear not for me, my good friend," he answered, in a tone that had
caught a little of the lofty ring of Lord Claud's.

"A man cannot go through life without making enemies as well as
friends. But as for such creatures as we have just quitted, why,
t