'em out again, Barnabas my lad." So saying, John Barty proceeded to
take off his coat and belcher neckerchief, and rolled his shirt
sleeves over his mighty forearms, motioning Barnabas to do the like.

"A father's duty be a very solemn thing, Barnabas," he continued
slowly, "an' your 'ead being (as I say) full o' wild idees, I'm
going to try to punch 'em out again as a well-meaning father should,
so help me back wi' the table out o' the road, an' off wi' your coat
and neckercher."

Well knowing the utter futility of argument with his father at such
a time, Barnabas obediently helped to set back the table, thus
leaving the floor clear, which done, he, in turn, stripped off coat
and neckcloth, and rolled up his sleeves, while his father watched
him with sharply appraising eye.

"You peel well, Barnabas," he nodded. "You peel like a fighting man,
you've a tidy arm an' a goodish spread o' shoulder, likewise your
legs is clean an' straight, but your skin's womanish, Barnabas,
womanish, an' your muscles soft wi' books. So, lad!--are ye ready?
Then come on."

Thus, without more ado they faced each other foot to foot,
bare-armed and alert of eye. For a moment they sparred watchfully,
then John Barty feinted Barnabas into an opening, in that same
moment his fist shot out and Barnabas measured his length on the
floor.

"Ah--I knowed as much!" John sighed mournfully as he aided Barnabas
to his feet, "and 't were only a love-tap, so to speak,--this is