Edgar Jepson

“ The brandy set the blood flowing in his veins; and he said to the children, “You wicked little monsters! If you begin by torturing human beings, you'll come to torturing cats and dogs, or even helpless rabbits who can neither scratch nor bite.”
“But we were Red Indians; and Red Indians do. Besides, we didn’t know you were the man who beat the tramps,” said Fred.
“Well, I beg you won’t do it again. I’m not a Red Indian, though I fancy I must be rather red,” said Jack with poor gaiety.
“I must bind your head up at once! It must be terribly painful!” said Ernestine. ”

“ Now, on this sunny June morning of his twenty-seventh birthday, he lay on the lane-side turf in the shade of a coppice surveying the world with thoughtful eyes. Owing to a matter of certain bottles of claret at fifteen shillings each, and a pretty chambermaid, his pocket held only sevenpence. For, on the tramp from London, he had chanced on an out-of-the-way inn, and talking to the landlady while he made a meal of bread and cheese and beer, had learned that there was a bin of fine old claret in the cellar. ”

“ Jack’s heart-beats quickened to her words.
“Now, there you go!—being a girl again!” said the boy angrily.
“I’m not! I’m not! I’m a Red Indian!” protested the little girl, indignant. “When I’m a girl, I’m afraid of blood! Now, look here!” And she put, very gingerly, a finger into the thin bloodstream still oozing from Jack’s broken head. “And mind, I’m going to have my fair share of torturing.”
“Well, I’m going to begin. He’s my prisoner. I dropped him in his tracks,” said the boy, taking a match from the basin. ”

“ Then he dropped heavily into his chair, and hid his face in his hands. A silence fell, broken presently by a single rasping, tearing sob from him.
At the sound of it Dulcie burst into a loud crying; ran to him, put a little arm round his neck, and sobbed, “Don’t cry, Mr. Burglar!—please don’t cry.” She glared at her sister and said, ‘Oh! what a beast you are, Ernestine! You called me cruel—and you’re worse: you’ve hurt him—m-m-m-more than hun-hun- hundreds of red-hot pokers!”
“I think burglars are fine!” said Fred, in a loud but thick voice. “They’re not thieves! ”

“ He was adored by children, to amuse whom he would readily make himself ridiculous; a three-legged dog in a house in a London slum looked for his return in a restless, whining impatience; and when he put himself about, a woman would with an amazing, careless cheerfulness, surrender to him the peace of her heart. ”

“ AND ERNESTINE.
JACK FEATHERLEIGH was a scamp of the kind called engaging. He had all the faults which spring from an iron resolve to do no work, and from a private morality founded on a mental twist which made him conceive society as his inveterate enemy, on whom he was bound to avenge himself for fancied, untold wrongs. ”

“ She looked at him, and her quick woman’s eye marked his difference from the real tramp: his sound, strong boots, the colours of his flannel shirt and blanket, his air of wholesome cleanliness, the whiteness of the skin through his rags.
“You must come with me—now, at once—to my father. He will try and repay you—though really it is beyond repayment—for saving me from those ruffians!” she said, making an eager movement to the bicycle.
He smiled, waved his hand, and said, “No; it is impossible. ”

“ Presently he saw that her tears flowed slower, and said, “Do you feel better?”
She gave herself a little shake, rose to her feet, and dried her eyes. She was trembling still. “How brave you are! And how strong!” ”

“ A beautiful creature!” he said, and sighed.
That afternoon he walked more at random than usual, taking cross-lane after cross-lane; he could not drive the plain image of the girl from his mind; his thought clung to her. ”