Pomp maintained his position on the other side of the wall.  He waited till the old lady was fairly over, and then commenced running.  The old lady pursued with vindictive animosity, cracking the whip in a suggestive manner.  Pomp doubled and turned in a most provoking way.  Finally he had recourse to a piece of strategy.  He had flung himself, doubled up in a ball, at the old lady’s feet, and she, unable to check her speed, fell over him, clutching at the ground with her outstretched hands, from which the whip had fallen.

“Hi, hi!” shrieked Pomp, with a yell of inconceivable delight, as he watched the signal downfall of his adversary.  Springing quickly to his feet, he ran swiftly away.

“Good for you, you old debble!” he cried from a safe distance.

Henry Morton, though he found it difficult to restrain his laughter, turned to Ajax and said, “I think it’s time we interfered.  If you’ll overtake the little black boy and give him a shaking up, just to keep him out of mischief hereafter, I’ll go and help the old lady.”

Ajax started on his errand.  Pomp, now really alarmed, strove to escape from this more formidable adversary, but in vain.  He was destined to receive a summary castigation.

Meanwhile, the young man approached Mrs. Payson.

“I hope you’re not much hurt, madam,” said he respectfully.

“I expect about every bone in my body’s broke,” she groaned.

Raising her to her feet, it became manifest that the damage was limited to a pair of hands begrimed by contact with the earth.  Nevertheless, the old lady persisted that “something or ’nother was broke.  She didn’t feel quite right inside.”

“I shouldn’t keer so much,” she added, “ef I’d caught that aggravatin’ boy.  I’d go fifty miles to see him hung.  He’ll die on the gallows, jest as sure’s I stan’ here.”

At this moment a shrill cry was heard, which could proceed from no one but Pomp.

“Golly, Mass’ Jack, don’t hit so hard.  Couldn’t help it, sure.”

“You’ll have to help it the next time, you little rascal!” responded Ajax.

“Le’ me go.  I hope to be killed if I ever do it ag’in,” pleaded Pomp, dancing about in pain.

“I hope you gin it to him,” said the old lady, as the driver reappeared.

Ajax smiled grimly.  “I touched him up a little,” he said.

“Oh, my poor bunnit!” groaned Mrs. Payson, once more, as her eyes fell upon the crushed article.  “What will Cynthy Ann say?”

“Perhaps a milliner can restore it for you,” suggested Henry Morton, with an attempt at consolation.

The old lady shook her head disconsolately.  “It’s all jammed out of shape,” she said dismally, “an’ the flowers is all mashed up.  Looks as ef an elephant had trodden on to it.”

“As you are the only one of us that has suffered,” said the young man politely, “I think it only fair that your loss should be lightened.  Will you accept this toward making it good?”