Cashel turned upon him curtly, and said, "Don't you make so free
with other people's names, or perhaps you may get into trouble
yourself."
The little man retreated hastily; hut the crowd responded with three
cheers as Cashel, with Lydia on his arm, withdrew through a lane of
disreputable-looking girls, roughs of Teddy's class, white-aproned
shopmen who had left their counters to see the fight, and a few pale
clerks, who looked with awe at the prize-fighter, and with wonder at
the refined appearance of his companion. The two were followed by a
double file of boys, who, with their eyes fixed earnestly on Cashel,
walked on the footways while he conducted Lydia down the middle of
the narrow street. Not one of them turned a somersault or uttered a
shout. Intent on their hero, they pattered along, coming into
collision with every object that lay in their path. At last Cashel
stopped. They instantly stopped too. He took some bronze coin from
his pocket, rattled it in his hand, and addressed them.
"Boys!" Dead silence. "Do you know what I have to do to keep up my
strength?" The hitherto steadfast eyes wandered uneasily. "I have to
eat a little boy for supper every night, the last thing before to
bed. Now, I haven't quite made up my mind which of you would be the
most to my taste; but if one of you comes a step further, I'll eat
HIM. So, away with you." And he jerked the coin to a considerable
distance. There was a yell and a scramble; and Cashel and Lydia
pursued their way unattended.
Lydia had taken advantage of the dispersion of the boys to detach
herself from Cashel's arm. She now said, speaking to him for the
first time since she had interceded for Teddy, "I am sorry to have given you so much trouble, Mr. Cashel Byron.
Thank you for interfering to protect me; but I was in no real
danger. I would gladly have borne with a few rough words for the
sake of avoiding a disturbance."
"There!" cried Cashel. "I knew it. You'd a deal rather I had minded
my own business and not interfered. You're sorry for the poor fellow
I treated so badly; ain't you now? That's a woman all over."
"I have not said one of these things."
"Well, I don't see what else you mean. It's no pleasure to me to
fight chance men in the streets for nothing: I don't get my living
that way. And now that I have done it for your sake, you as good as
tell me I ought to have kept myself quiet."