“I shan’t fight with anything else,” said Frank stubbornly.
“You shall, sir. Now, then, name your friend.”
“Can’t; he wouldn’t go. He’s such a hot, peppery fellow too.”
“Then he is as big a coward as you are.”
“Look here,” said Frank, almost in a whisper. “I don’t know so much as you do about what we ought to do here, but I suppose it means a lot of trouble; and if it does I can’t help it, but if you call me a coward again I’ll hit you straight in the face.”
“Coward then!” cried Andrew, in a sharp whisper. “Now hit me, if you dare.”
As he spoke he drew himself up to his full height, threw out his chest, and folded his arms behind him.
Quick as thought Frank doubled his fist, and as he drew back his arm raised his firm white knuckles to a level with his shoulder, and then reason checked him, and he stood looking darkly into his fellow-page’s eyes.
“I knew it,” cried the latter—“a coward; and your friend is worse than you, or you wouldn’t have chosen him.”
“Oh! don’t you abuse him,” said Frank, with his face brightening; and his eyes shone with the mirth which had suddenly taken the place of his anger.