And in putting out one hand she knocked over a jug.
And the jug communicated its shock to dish. Which toppled over,
and coolly pushed the great basin of milk off the shelf on to the floor.
I don't know if ever you have tried to clean a board floor after milk,
but I am sure you can imagine it would be a disagreeable task,
especially if you had scrubbed it well only that morning. It was hardly
to be wondered at, therefore, that Martha, in her profound irritation
at the disaster, turned angrily round, and, pointing to the figure
now stuck in the window, demanded in an exasperated tone whether
the blessed saints could stand that dratted boy any longer, for she
couldn't, so there.
The Captain took an angry step into the pantry and gave a roar of
command for Bunty to come down.
The boy dropped in an agony of dread and shrinking.
"Always his hands a-pickin' and stealin' and his tongue a-lyin',"
said Martha Tomlinson, gazing unkindly at the unhappy child.
Two, three, four, five angry cuts from the riding-whip in the
Captain's hands, and Bunty had ducked under his arm and fled howling
down the passage and out of the back door.
Away across the paddocks he went, sobbing at every step, but hugely
commending himself for bearing all this for someone else's sake.
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