We have
nothing more to do with each other, and you can go where you wish.
My sewing-needle, say I--my needle, or I will hang you as a
scarecrow in my pea-patch, to frighten the sparrows out of it. My
sewing-needle, or--"
She shook her clenched fist threateningly at Hodge, fully convinced
that now, as always before, Hodge would retreat before this menacing
weapon of his jealous and irritable lady-love, and seek safety under
the bed or the table.
This time, however, she was mistaken. Hodge, who saw that all was
lost, felt that his patience was at length exhausted; and his
timidity was now changed to the madness of despair. The lamb was
transformed into a tiger, and with a tiger's rage he pounced upon
Gammer Gurton, and, throwing aside her fist, he dealt her a good
sound blow on the cheek.
The signal was given, and the battle began. It was waged by both
sides with equal animosity and equal vigor; only Hodge's bony hand
made by far the most telling blows on Gammer Gurton's mass of flesh,
and was always certain, wherever he struck, to hit some spot of this
huge mass; while Gammer Gurton's soft hand seldom touched that thin,
threadlike figure, which dexterously parried every blow.
"Stop, you fools!" suddenly shouted a stentorian voice. "See you
not, you goblins, that your lord and master is here? Peace, peace
then, you devils, and do not be hammering away at one another, but
love each other.
It is the master!" exclaimed Gammer Gurton, lowering her fist in the
utmost contrition.
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