It wasn't the first time he had thrashed him, and, egad, it mightn't be the last.

But he hadn't meant to administer quite such a punishment as that.

It was decent of the young rascal not to sulk after it, though he wasn't altogether sure that he approved of the light fashion with which Piers had elected to treat the whole episode.

It looked as if he had not wholly taken to heart the lesson Sir Beverley had intended to convey, and if that were the case--again Sir Beverley swore deep in his soul--he was fully equal to repeating it, ay, and again repeating it, until the youngster came to heel.

He never had endured any nonsense from Piers, and, by Gad, he never would! With these reflections he stumped downstairs, and seated himself on the black, oaken settle in the hall to await the boy's advent.
The fire blazed cheerily, flinging ruddy gleams upon the shining suits of armour, roaring up the chimney in a sheet of flame.