Bunny remained silent, stiff and unyielding.
Jake completed his task and stood up. "If you're wanting to tell me to go to blazes, you may as well say it as not," he said.
"I'm not," growled Bunny. "But you've no right to treat me like a dog. I'm not used to it."
"A damn' good hiding is what you're most in need of," said Jake, in his soft, imperturbable voice. "You'd learn a lot that way. There's too much pride in your family, my son, and it ain't always the proper sort of pride either. It's likely to lead you into difficulties." He paused a moment; then bent again, his hand moving lightly upwards over the bedclothes. "Say, Bunny, climb down a bit; climb down!" he said. "I can't get within a mile of you on that high horse of yours."
There was a hint of coaxing in the words and action to which Bunny taken by surprise made instant almost involuntary response. With a swift, passionate movement, he caught the persuasive hand.
"Old chap--" he said, and stopped, breaking off short.
There followed a few, pulsing seconds, during which Jake's hand was pressed hard against a burning face. Then, very suddenly Bunny cast his pride wholly from him and burst into choking tears.
"Little feller! Little feller!" said Jake, and gathered him into arms that were full of motherly comfort.
He sat down on the bed, so holding him, rocking him a little, soothing him in the darkness that seemed to banish all barriers and link them in a brotherhood more close than either had anticipated before that moment.
Bunny's surrender was complete and unconditional. He clung fast to Jake with whispered words of penitence. "I'm always like that when I feel bad. I've had that filthy neuralgia in my back ever since tea. It makes me want to bite and kick. I didn't mean to be a beast to you, Jake. I take back all I said. You'll forget it--say you'll forget it!"