Archibald was not really a malicious boy; but his love of mischief often occasioned quarrels between him and the boys of the village: more than once he received a very severe beating from some who would not take his pranks in good part. On such occasions he had to suffer twice; because, whenever his father discovered that he had been fighting, he punished him severely.
One morning, not long after the occurrence that has just been mentioned, Harold and his Father were walking in the garden, on a raised path which overlooked the surrounding country: they had been conversing some time, when the Father, pointing towards the common which adjoined the garden, said, “What is the matter there, Harold? there is a great number of boys together; and they are moving about from side to side, as though some of them were fighting.”
Harold. I think they are, Papa; and hark, don’t you hear them quarrelling?
Father. Yes, I think I do.—Where is your brother?
Harold. He went out upon the common, about an hour ago.
Father. Perhaps then it is he who is fighting. Go and see. If Archibald is there, bring him away: tell him I have sent you to fetch him home: and if he is fighting, let the boy he has been fighting with come also. If you are not able to put an end to the fray, wave your hat; and I will come; I shall stand here and watch. I do not mean that you should call me, only to prevent your receiving a few blows; remember,—a man must have courage as well as good temper, to be a peace maker. Do not run; that would put you out of breath, and you would not be able to behave properly.
Harold walked steadily across the common: before he came up to the boys, he heard one, who was on the outside of the circle, call out, “Dick, Dick; here’s his brother coming.” This seemed to put a stop to the fight for a moment. As he approached he distinguished his brother’s voice, in a half crying tone, repeating some expressions of contempt and defiance, and adding—“and I’ll say so again,—so I will.”
Harold made his way through the crowd without violence or blustering: he found Archibald standing in a cringing posture, with his back against the stump of a tree; and holding his left arm over his forehead: his face and shirt were bloody. Harold placed himself close before his brother, without clenching his fists. At the same instant, a boy who was standing on one side, aimed a blow at Archibald, saying, “and that’s for ye, Master Archey.” Harold caught the blow on his arm; and, darting towards him, thrust him away: he struck his head pretty smartly against the tree; and then sneaked away to the outside of the circle.
“Jem Mason,” said Harold, speaking to one of the biggest boys,—“tell me what’s the matter; and let us have no more fighting. Here are all of you against one: that’s not fair: you shall not use my brother so, I assure you.”
“No, Master Harold,” said James Mason; “It’s only Dick Hobb has been fighting with him: but you know, your brother should let we alone; and then we would let he alone: we di’nt meddle with he.”