But a little shoulder was into his side, two small fists were beating at his chest, and a shrill voice was yelling: "Devil! devil! stan' awa'
! "--and he was tumbled precipitately away from the mantelpiece, and brought up abruptly against the side-wall.
The precious Cup swayed on its ebony stand, the boy's hands, rudely withdrawn, almost overthrowing it. But the little man's first impulse, cursing and screaming though he was, was to steady it.
"'M'Adam's Wull'! I wish he was here to teach ye, ye snod-faced, ox-limbed profleegit!" he cried, standing in front of the Cup, his eyes blazing.
"Ay, 'WAdam's Wull'! And why not 'M'Adam's Wull'? Ha' ye ony objection to the name?""I didn't know yo' was theer," said David, a thought sheepishly.
"Na; or ye'd not ha' said it."
"I'd ha' thought it, though," muttered the boy.
Luckily, however, his father did not hear. He stretched his hands up tenderly for the Cup, lifted it down, and began reverently to polish the dimmed sides with his handkerchief.
"Ye're thinkin', nae doot," he cried, casting up a vicious glance at David, "that Wullie's no gude enough to ha' his name alangside o'
they cursed Gray Dogs. Are ye no? Let's ha' the truth for aince--for a diversion."" Reck'n he's good enough if there's none better," David replied dispassionately.
"And wha should there be better? Tell me that, ye mucide gowk."David smiled.
"Eh, but that'd be long tellin', he said.
"And what wad ye mean by that?" his father cried.
"Nay; I was but thinkin' that Mr. Moore's Bob'll look gradely writ under yon." He pointed to the vacant space below Red Wull's name.
The little man put the Cup back on its pedestal with hurried hands.
The handkerchief dropped unconsidered to the floor; he turned and sprang furiously at the boy, who stood against the wall, still smiling; and, seizing him by the collar of his coat, shook him to and fro with fiery energy.
"So ye're hopin', prayin', nae doot, that James Moore--curse him !--will win ma Cup awa' from me, yer am dad. I wonder ye're no 'shamed to crass ma door! Ye live on me; ye suck ma blood, ye foul-mouthed leech. Wullie and me brak' oorsel's to keep ye in .iioose and hame--and what's yer gratitude? 'Ye plot to rob us of oor rights."He dropped the boy's coat and stood back. No rights about it," said David, still keeping his temper.
"If I win is it no ma right as muckle as ony Englishman's?"Red Wull, who had heard the rising voices, came trotting in, scowled at David, and took his stand beside his master.
"Ah, if yo' win it," said David, with signfficant emphasis on the conjunction.
"And wha's to beat us?"
David looked at his father in well-affected surprise.
"I tell yo' Owd Bob's mm'," he answered.
"And what if he is?" the other cried.
"Why, even yo' should know so much," the boy sneered.
The little man could not fail to understand.
"So that's it!" he said. Then, in a scream, with one finger pointing to the great dog:
"And what o' him? What'll ma Wullie be doin' the while? Tell me that, and ha' a care! Mind ye, he stan's here hearkenin'!" And, indeed, the Tailless Tyke was bristling for battle.
David did not like the look of things; and edged away toward the door.
"What'll Wullie be doin', ye chicken-hearted brock?" his father cried.
'Im?" said the boy, now close on the door! 'Im?" he said, with a slow contempt that made the red bristles quiver on the dog's neck.
"Lookin' on, I should think--lookin' on.
What else is he fit for? I tell yo' oor Bob--""--'Oor Bob'!" screamed the little man darting forward. " 'Oor Bob'!
Hark to him. I'll 'oor--' At him, Wullie! at him!"But the Tailless Tyke needed no encouragement. With a harsh roar he sprang through the air, only to crash against the closing door!
The outer door banged, and in another second a mocking finger tapped on the windowpane.
"Better luck to the two on yo' next time! laughed a scornful voice;and David ran down the hill toward Kenmuir.
