“You want it to come off, then, Richard? This is a little shocking, I’m afraid; but perhaps I can’t altogether blame you. He’s a young Samson, mind.”
“You said, sir, that science——” I began, but he plugged my mouth hastily, and gave me no opportunity to speak more till he had cleaned my wounds to his satisfaction. Then he put me up between his knees and, while dabbing my face spasmodically with a towel, recited to me the fable of the brass and the earthenware pots.
“The brass pot, you see, was the gentleman,” he said. “He illustrated the Christian science of self-defence. He didn’t invite an encounter; but, when it was forced upon him, his art got the better of the coarser clay.”
He stretched out my arms and pinched their muscles.
“Well enough,” he said; “but that little Antaeus owes his to his mother earth. He could lick you with one hand, Dicky—easy, he could. Aren’t you afraid?”
“Yes, I am,” I said, honestly.
He nodded approvingly.
“Real courage, Dicky, doesn’t mean not being afraid. We must all be afraid sometimes, when we are called upon to fight men or animals who are much stronger and fiercer than we are. But when we know that wrong or unjust things are being done to us by people who do these things just because they are stronger, then, if we fight them in spite of our being afraid, that is the real courage. On the other hand, it isn’t brave to force people to fight who we know are much weaker than we are. But when God has given us good health and strong arms, it is noble to use them to help people who are weaker than we are, and to punish the bullies who would take advantage of their weakness. That’s what it is makes a true gentleman—not riches, nor titles, nor having a tutor instead of a public teacher. The little boy who is just, and very truthful, and who never does anything that he would be ashamed of good people knowing, is on the way to be a gentleman, whether he lives in a palace or a cottage. But if, added to these, he trains all his faculties to oblige other people to repay him the truth and justice and honour which he gives them, then he is a complete gentleman already.”
He broke off to feel me all up and down.
“There’s good material here,” he said; “very good. We’ll use it to counterbalance brute strength. That’s the fine moral of boxing, little man—to see that the weak don’t go to the wall. Now, shall I confess a secret? I love Harry Harrier pretty equal with you, sir. He’s got the makings of a gentleman—my sort—in him; only no amount of persuasion from me will educate him like a scientific licking from one less than his own size. You don’t see that, perhaps; but, all the same, I look to you to knock him into my fold for me. You are the Church’s champion, Richard, and you shall gain me a new convert, or I’ll never put faith in the gloves again. Now come along with me home.”