They were a pretty
equal match, and rolled about together, exchanging blows which were
by no means child's play, until at length Kit, planting a
well-directed hit in his adversary's chest, disengaged himself,
sprung nimbly up, and snatching the cage from Quilp's hands made
off with his prize.
He did not stop once until he reached home, where his bleeding face
occasioned great consternation, and caused the elder child to howl
dreadfully.
'Goodness gracious, Kit, what is the matter, what have you been
doing?' cried Mrs Nubbles.
'Never you mind, mother,' answered her son, wiping his face on the
jack-towel behind the door. 'I'm not hurt, don't you be afraid for
me. I've been a fightin' for a bird and won him, that's all. Hold
your noise, little Jacob. I never see such a naughty boy in all my
days!'
'You have been fighting for a bird!' exclaimed his mother.
'Ah! Fightin' for a bird!' replied Kit, 'and here he is--Miss
Nelly's bird, mother, that they was agoin' to wring the neck of! I
stopped that though--ha ha ha! They wouldn't wring his neck and me
by, no, no.
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