No answer.
“Look here: aren’t you going to say you’re sorry for it and shake hands?”
Vince waited for a while and then burst out impatiently,—
“Look here, if you don’t speak I’ll kick the tub over and let you down.”
All in vain: Mike did not move, and Vince began to grow impatient.
“Here, I say,” he cried, “I know I’m a bit of a beast sometimes, but you can’t say I’m sulky. I did nothing; and if it was I, you know I’d have owned I was in the wrong and held out my fist—open; not like you did, to knock a fellow down.”
Another pause, and Vince exclaimed,—
“Well, I am—”
He did not say what, but stood with extended arm.
“I say, Mikey,” he said softly, “I know you haven’t got any eyes in the back of your head, so I may as well tell you. I’m holding out my hand for a shake, and my arm’s beginning to ache.”