“‘Tith an old club,” sobbed Pip, “and who wantth my chanth may have it.”
“O, fellers, let’s not get mad,” said the president.
“Pooh!” exclaimed the governor. “You can say so, who gave all the lickin’s.”
“And not had one yourself,” said Charlie.
“O, fellers, don’t get mad,” besought Sid once more. “You know it was for your good.”
This last remark was greeted with sneers, showing that Sid’s labors for the welfare of youth were not appreciated. There was not only a determination to get mad, but to stay mad. Besides, the offended ones were moving toward the door, and this in a quarrel always looks bad.
“Let it go,” said Sid. “I did not mean to hurt you. Come, let’s march down stairs. I was going to have you march down stairs properly, just as we do at school. Come, let’s form a line.”
“Yes, and you be cap’n,” sulked Wort.
“You may be, then,” said Sid.
“I aint goin’ to march,” sobbed Pip.