uddenly; for his feet slipped upon the
polished stone, and on his face he fell into the pool at Thurnall's
feet.

"Well for both of us geese!" said Tom inwardly, as he went to pick him
up. "I verily believe he was going to strike me, and that would have
done for neither of us. I was a fool to say it; but the temptation was
so exquisite; and it must have come some day."

But Vavasour staggered up of his own accord, and dashing away Tom's
proffered hand, was rushing off without a word.

"Not so, Mr. John Briggs!" said Tom, making up his mind in a moment
that he must have it out now, or never; and that he might have
everything to fear from Vavasour if he let him go home furious. We do
not part thus, sir!"

"We will meet again, if you will," foamed Vavasour, "but it shall end
in the death of one of us!"

"By each other's potions? I can doctor myself, sir, thank you. Listen
to me, John Briggs! You shall listen!" and Tom sprang past him, and
planted himself at the foot of the rock steps, to prevent his escaping
upward.

"What, do you wish to quarrel with me, sir? It is I who ought to
quarrel with you. I am the aggrieved party, and not you, sir! I have
not seen the son of the man who, when I was an apothecary's boy,
petted me, lent me books, introduced me as a genius, turned my head
for me, which was just what I was vain enough to enjoy--I have not
seen that man's son cast ashore penniless and friendless, and yet
never held out to him a helping hand, but tried to conceal my identity
from him, from a dirty shame of my honest father's honest name."

Vavasour dropped his eyes, for was it not true? but he raised them
again more fiercely than ever.

"Curse you! I owe you nothing. It was you who made me ashamed of it.
You rhymed on it, and laughed about poetry coming out of such a name."

"And what if I did? Are poets to "be made of nothing but tinder and
gall?" Why could you not take an honest joke as it was meant, and
go your way like other people, till you had shown yourself worth
something, and won honour even, for the name of Briggs?"

"And I have! I have my own station now, my own fame, sir, and it is
nothing to you what I choose to call myself. I have won my place, I
say, and your mean envy cannot rob me of it."

"You have your station. Very good," said Tom, not caring to notice the
imputation; "you owe the greater part of it to your having made a most
fortunate marriage, for which I respect you, as a practical