Jake shook him. "I'll be mad with you in a minute, my son. Go after her, do you hear? Go after her and make it up before she starts crying!"
"She won't cry!" said Bunny incredulously. "She never does."
Jake swung him round to the door. "Bunny, don't you be a skunk! If you don't go, there'll be trouble--bad trouble."
"But it was her fault!" protested Bunny, stung to remonstrance. "She set on to me first."
"I don't care whose fault it was," said Jake. "You're to go."
Bunny writhed in his hold. "You're beastly unfair, Jake. If I do go, I shan't apologize."
"You won't?" said Jake.
"No, I won't!" There was a faint note of apprehension in Bunny's voice, notwithstanding its defiance. He stood up to Jake, but his eyelids quivered ever so slightly. His hands opened and shut in the old nervous fashion.
Jake was holding him fast. "Think it over!" he said. "Think it over!"
His voice was steady, his grip inflexible. His eyes never left the boy's hot face. They held a stern warning that could not be ignored.