“I won’t,” I cried. “It isn’t fair. He can’t see.”
Trying to mark me by my voice, the boy let out a furious blow, and, as his fist whizzed near me, I caught and clutched it in my own.
“Harry!” I said hurriedly, “let’s be friends!”
He tore his hand away, stood with his face quivering a moment, then all of a sudden fell upon his knees, and, putting his arm across his eyes, began to sob as if his heart were broken.
A silence and embarrassment fell upon us all. Then Mr. Sant walked over to the boy and addressed some words to him. He turned a deaf ear, repulsing him.
“You have fought like a man,” said the clergyman. “Come, take your beating like one.”
The lad started and looked up. He could see again now, but glimmeringly.
“Be the three minnuts past?” he said.
“I’m afraid so,” said the other.
The boy got to his feet, sniffing, and, without uttering a word, began rolling down and buttoning his shirt sleeves.