Chapter
19
Cliffe RoyalMy uncle was humanely anxious to get Harrison to bed as soon as possible, for the smith, although he laughed at his own injuries, had none the less been severely punished.
“Don’t you dare ever to ask my leave to fight again, Jack Harrison,” said his wife, as she looked ruefully at his battered face. “Why, it’s worse than when you beat Black Baruk; and if it weren’t for your topcoat, I couldn’t swear you were the man who led me to the altar! If the King of England ask you, I’ll never let you do it more.”
“Well, old lass, I give my davy that I never will. It’s best that I leave fightin’ before fightin’ leaves me.” He screwed up his face as he took a sup from Sir Charles’s brandy flask. “It’s fine liquor, sir, but it gets into my cut lips most cruel. Why, here’s Joh
