A. T. Quiller-Couch

“ Squire Moyle clutched at his Bible like a child who has been caught playing in school. Sir Harry stepped to the window and flung up the sash. "Out you tumble, youngsters—you too, Miss, if you like. Pick up your coat, George—cut and run to the stables; I'll be round in a minute—quick, out you go!"
The children scrambled over the sill and dropped on to the stone terrace. As his father closed the sash behind him, George Vyell laughed out. Then Taffy began to laugh; he laughed all the way as they ran. When they reached the stables he was swaying with laughter. ”

“ Taffy turned round in a daze. He did not understand. His eyes met Honoria's, and they were fastened on him curiously. He was white in the face; the sight of the murdered game-cock had sickened him.
"He doesn't look flourishing." Sir Harry mimicked the Squire's recent manner.
Taffy turned with the look of a hunted animal. He did not want to fight. He hated this house and its inhabitants. ”

“ He sat glum, pulling a whisker and keeping a sour eye on the bird, which was strutting about in rather foolish bewilderment at the pink peonies on the carpet.
"I'm giving you every chance," he grumbled at length.
"Oh, as for that," Sir Harry replied, equably, "have it out in the yard, if you please, on your own dunghill."
"No. Indoors is bad enough."
Jim appeared just then, and turned out to be Taffy's old enemy, the Whip, bearing the Squire's game-cock in a basket. He took it out; a very handsome bird, with a hackle in which gold, purple and the richest browns shone and were blended. ”