the fence--and four minutes later Mrs. Malloch Smith, hearing strange
noises, looked forth from a window; then screamed, and dashed for the
pastor's study. Mr. Malloch Smith, that grim-bearded Methodist, came
to the front yard and found his visiting nephew being rapidly prepared
by Master Minafer to serve as a principal figure in a pageant of
massacre. It was with great physical difficulty that Mr. Smith
managed to give his nephew a chance to escape into the house, for
Georgie was hard and quick, and, in such matters, remarkably intense;
but the minister, after a grotesque tussle, got him separated from his
opponent, and shook him.

"You stop that, you!" Georgie cried fiercely; and wrenched himself
away. "I guess you don't know who I am!"

"Yes, I do know!" the angered Mr. Smith retorted. "I know who you
are, and you're a disgrace to your mother! Your mother ought to be
ashamed of herself to allow--"

"Shut up about my mother bein' ashamed of herself!"

Mr. Smith, exasperated, was unable to close the dialogue with dignity.
"She ought to be ashamed," he repeated. "A woman that lets a bad boy
like you--"

But Georgie had reached his pony and mounted. Before setting off at
his accustomed gallop, he paused to interrupt the Reverend Malloch
Smith again. "You pull down your vest, you ole Billygoat, you!" he
shouted, distinctly. "Pull down your vest, wipe off your chin--an' go
to hell!"