'May I speak to him? Will you excuse me?' said the Captain blandly.
'Ow--ay, they'll excuse ye ready enough, I dessay; you're to deal wi' me
though. Baint ye in the wrong box now?'
'I'm not conscious, sir, of being in a box at all,' replied the Captain,
with severe disdain. 'It strikes me you are disposed to get up a row. Let
us, if you please, get a little apart from the ladies if that is your
purpose.'
'I mean to turn you out o' this the way ye came. If you make a row, so much
the wuss for you, for I'll lick ye to fits.'
'Tell him not to fight,' whispered Milly; 'he'll a no chance wi' Dudley.'
I saw Dickon Hawkes grinning over the paling on which he leaned.
'Mr. Hawkes,' I said, drawing Milly with me toward that unpromising
mediator, 'pray prevent unpleasantness and go between them.'
'An' git licked o' both sides? Rather not, Miss, thank ye,' grinned Dickon,
tranquilly.
'Who are you, sir?' demanded our romantic acquaintance, with military
sternness.
'I'll tell you who you are--you're Oakley, as stops at the Hall, that
Governor wrote, over-night, not to dare show your nose inside the grounds.
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