Whilst father was fighting

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Yes, of course."

"And what about me in the matter?" Tom asked, much to Bob's amazement. "You know I saw the brooch on the ground at the same time as you did," he went on untruthfully, "but you were quicker than me and picked it up first."

"I don't know anything of the sort!" Bob cried indignantly. "How can you tell such a wicked story?"

"It's not a wicked story and I dare you to say so! It's true! And my word's as good as yours, I hope! You ought to halve that five pounds with me, or, at any rate, give me something out of it."

"I'm not going to give you anything!"

"You're not?"

"No."

Tom took a step nearer to Bob, and made a threatening gesture as though he would strike him. Bob looked him steadily in the eyes, and did not flinch. The bully hesitated a minute, then a cruel expression crossed his face.

"If you don't give me a share of that five pounds I'll make you wish you had!" he declared. "Come, now, a pound will satisfy me. No? Ten shillings then?"

"I won't give you a farthing," Bob told him, "for I am positive you never saw the brooch before I'd picked it up. Let me pass. I can't stop talking any longer! Do you hear? Let me pass!"