I was so much shocked that I stood transfixed, forgetting even to
draw Dora away from the sound, while the old woman pleaded that "Mr.
Herod" had made the promise, and said nothing of increasing her rent.
Probably Bullock had been irritated by the works set on foot at
Ogden's farm, for he brought out another torrent of horrid
imprecations upon "the meddling convict fellow," the least
intolerable of the names he used, and of her for currying favour,
threatening her with instant expulsion if she uttered a word of
complaint, or mentioned the increase of her rent, and on her
hesitation actually lifting his large heavy stick.
We both cried out and sprang forward, though I scarcely suppose that
he would have actually struck her. But much more efficient help was
at hand. Bullock's broad back was to the gate, and he little knew
that at the moment he raised his stick Harold, attracted by his loud
railing voice, leaped over the gate, and with one bound was upon the
fellow, wresting the stick from his hand and laying it about his
shoulders with furious energy. We all screamed out. Dora, it was
suspected, bade him go on and give it to him well, and perhaps my
wrath with the man made me simply shriek; but the sense of our
presence did (whatever we wished) check Harold's violence so far that
he ceased his blows, throwing the man from him with such force that
he fell prone into the poor dame's gooseberry-bush, and had to pick
himself up through numerous scratches, just as we had hurried round
through the garden.
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