"Last month. I was up on Beachy Head with the spy-glass, when I saw
the _Kite_ beating up for Cuckmere Haven. So I ran down to
Birling Gap thinking--thinking--" he coughed--"she might a--a--be
bringing me a little present from France--a bit o bacca, or dallop o
tea, or what not, ye know.... What ye say?"
He turned on the boy savagely.
"I didn't say anything," replied Kit, astonished.
The Parson scowled.
"Well, as I swung round into the cutting I nearly ran into a chap on a
chestnut--quite the Corinthian, with a bit o red riband stuck on his
stomach. I brought up sharp on my heels.
"'Well, my fine fellow,' thinks I, 'what you posing here for?--and
why's that mare in a lather?' But before I could say anything--
"'Hullo!' says he, 'I think I should know that nose.'
"'What ye mean?' says I, pretty sharp.
"'Why,' says he, 'I once had the pleasure of pulling it.'
"Then he laughed. And directly he laughed of course I knew.
"I put my hand upon my sword.
"'And what you doing attitudinising in _my_ land, my lord?' says
I, the bristles at the back of my neck rising. 'Play-acting your
Caesar about to conquer Britain by the look o you!'
"'Why, your Majesty,' says he, 'I'm out for a ride on _your_
land.
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