"Why don't you send that kid home?" demanded Master Hardy, eyeing the
fair songstress with strong disfavour.

"You leave my sister alone," said the other, giving him a light tap on
the shoulder. "There's your coward's blow."

Master Hardy made a ceremonious return. "There's yours," he said.
"Let's go behind the church."

His foe assented, and they proceeded in grave silence to a piece of grass
screened by trees, which stood between the church and the beach. Here
they removed their coats and rolled up their shirt-sleeves. Things look
different out of doors, and to Miss Nugent the arms of both gentlemen
seemed somewhat stick-like in their proportions.

The preliminaries were awful, both combatants prancing round each other
with their faces just peering above their bent right arms, while their
trusty lefts dealt vicious blows at the air. Miss Nugent turned pale and
caught her breath at each blow, then she suddenly reddened with wrath as
James Philip Hardy, having paid his tribute to science, began to hammer
John Augustus Nugent about the face in a most painful and workmanlike
fashion.

She hid her face for a moment, and when she looked again Jack was on the
ground, and Master Hardy just rising from his prostrate body. Then Jack
rose slowly and, crossing over to her, borrowed her handkerchief and
applied it with great tenderness to his nose.

"Does it hurt, Jack?" she inquired, anxiously. "No," growled her