Beta Book

He'd punch this
fellow as he'd punched Pete, as soon as not--or even sooner.
"Ow.... It's shut up, is it?... I've 'arf a mind to set the
'tecs on you, but I'm lyte. I'll just 'it you on the bloody nowse."
Bill Wrenn stepped off the ladder and squared at him. He was
sorry that the Cockney was smaller than Pete.
The Cockney came over, feinted in an absent-minded manner, made
swift and confusing circles with his left hand, and hit Bill
Wrenn on the aforesaid bloody nose, which immediately became a
bleeding nose. Bill Wrenn felt dizzy and, sitting on a
grain-sack, listened amazedly to the Cockney's apologetic:
"I'm sorry I ayn't got time to 'ave the law on you, but I could
spare time to 'it you again."
Bill shook the blood from his nose and staggered at the Cockney,
who seized his collar, set him down outside the stable with a
jarring bump, and walked away, whistling:

"Come, oh come to our Sunday-school,
Ev-v-v-v-v-v-ry Sunday morn-ing."

"Gee!" mourned Mr.


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