"I won't!" I roared tragically. "She said I was the fa-ather of it!"
"She did not!" yelled Angel. "I'm the father!"
Jenny glanced fearfully at the windows of the Bishop's house. All was silent there. Then, with a scornful little kick at me, she said—"Go 'way, you nasty boy! I don't want you. I only like Angel."
There was nothing more to be said. I hung my head, and, with a sob in my throat, turned away. I could hear them whispering behind me.
Before I reached our own yard Angel came running after me.
"Tell you what I'll do, John," he said, as he came abreast, "tell you what I'll do—I'll fight you for her. Like knights of old, you know. We could go down to the coal cellar, and have a reg'lar tourney. It'd be bully fun. We could have pokers for lances. Say, will you?"
I was not in a fighting mood, but I had never refused a challenge, and, somehow, the thought of bloodshed eased my pain a little. So, half-reluctantly, I followed him, as he eagerly led the way to the coal cellar.
Even on this August day it was cold down there. Long cobwebs trailed, spectre-like from
[70]
