You young bully! Leave your uncle be!’ He then gave the lad a shove which sent the latter sprawling on the ground and turned to the other, who appeared to my eyes as the slightly younger man. But if he had expected sympathy, he was disappointed. ‘Get up, for Sweet Christ’s sake, Bart! What are you, a man or a jellyfish? If you can’t stand up to a lout like James, God help you! You should be ashamed of yourself!’ The man in the green tunic, referred to as James, got to his feet and gave a snort of laughter. ‘There’s one thing to be said about you, Grandfather: you don’t have favourites. We all get to feel the rough edge of your tongue.’ He stooped and proffered a hand to his opponent, still struggling to rise. ‘No hard feelings, Bartholomew. But you shouldn’t be insolent to your elders and betters, you know, even if I am your nephew.’ ‘You’re not better than me. Father!’ The other youth, now on his feet, laid a hand on Sir George’s arm. ‘Tell him to stop teasing me.
What do You think about The Christmas Wassail (2013)?
