Shall I--"
"No!" retorted John Martin. "If you don't go instantly I'll send for
the police,"--and Hamar, coming to the conclusion that upon this
occasion discretion was better than valour, hurriedly beat a retreat.
"You'll be sorry, John Martin!" he shouted from a safe distance, "and
so will Miss Gladys, charming Miss Gladys. But remember you have only
yourselves to blame. Ta-ta!", and the next moment he was lost to
sight.
"Well!" Gladys ejaculated, "of all the beastly cads I have ever seen
he fairly takes the biscuit. What colossal cheek! The idea of his
coming here and speaking to us like that! Can't we prosecute him,
Father?"
"Hardly!" John Martin replied, "best leave him alone. I wish he hadn't
come! He's upset me! My nerves are anyhow! Which was the tree he spoke
about?"
"This one," Gladys exclaimed, walking up to an elm, and patting it
with her hand, "but you surely don't believe what he said, do you? It
was all rubbish from start to finish. Daddy, my dear old Daddy, I do
believe you are worrying about it."
"Hold my hat and stick a moment," John Martin said, and making a
spring, which for one of his age and weight showed surprising agility,
he succeeded in catching hold of one of the nearest lateral branches.
The elm being old, the bark had become very gnarled and uneven, and
thus the difficulty of ascension lay more in semblance, perhaps, than
in reality. Embracing the huge trunk, as closely as possible, with his
arms and knees, much to the detriment of his clothes, seizing with his
hands some projections, and resting his feet upon others, John Martin,
after one or two narrow escapes from falling, at length wriggled
himself into the first great fork, and paused to wipe his forehead.
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