He aimed a backhanded slap at Alfred as he spoke, but the latter bobbed his head, and King barked his knuckles.
“That’s your little game, is it?” he exclaimed, and seizing Alfred he shook him and threw him on to the grass, nearly causing another boy, who was stepping backwards, to roll over him. Alfred got up at once and brushed his clothes, and while he was doing so another boy came up and spoke to him.
“What’s up?” he exclaimed.
“I am, now,” replied Alfred, smiling.
“So I see,” said Walter Parker, laughing; “but you were down a moment ago, weren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Has Herbert King been bullying you because you’ve got the place he wanted his brother to have?”
“I don’t know the name of the boy who pushed me down,” replied Alfred, “but he did not have it all his own way. He went to hit me, and as I ducked my head he knocked his knuckles against the pillar instead.”
“I am glad of it,” said Walter. “It serves him right; he is far too fond of bullying, especially new boys. If I catch him at it I will punch his head again, as I did last week. You tell me if he hits you, and I will square accounts with him. What is your name?”
“Alfred Davidson.”