Galloping Dick
But I waved my arm impatiently at him. “Stand aside,” says I “for I will buss this recalcitrant Orinda or be damned,” and I reached out my hand as if to seize her.
“You ruffian you!” she cried, stimulated back into her haughtiness by Old Rowley’s intervention. “I will have you whipped at the cart’s tail. I will put my mark on you.”
“Why, for that matter,” I says with a laugh, “and I upon you.”
But she gave a little scream, and Old Rowley stood by, seeming somewhat embarrassed, for it was plain what I was minded to do, and, sooth to say, my blood was hot enough for the job. But upon my venturing another movement she stamped her foot in a frenzy.
“Do you know who I am, fool?” she said. “I am the Duchess of Cleveland, I will learn you to use your hands on persons of quality.”
“Oh, ho,” says I with a boisterous laugh, “’tis high company we enjoy, for sure. Well,” I says, “and I make no doubt that I am the Great Mogul, and this here will be His Gracious Majesty himself.”
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