“If you dare to touch me,” cried Arthur furiously, “I shall complain to papa.”
“And he’ll laugh at you,” said Dick; “and serve you right.”
Arthur snatched off his lower garment with the obstinacy of a half-asleep individual, and scrambled into bed again, dragging the clothes up over his chest, and scowling defiantly at his brother, as if saying, “Touch me if you dare.”
“There’s a stupid, obstinate, lazy old pig,” cried Dick, throwing the pillow at him and standing rubbing one ear. “Here—hi, Will!” he said, going to the window, “come round and upstairs. Here’s a seal in his cave asleep. Come and let’s tug him out.”
“He had better not dare to come into my bed-room,” cried Arthur, punching the pillow thrown at him viciously, and settling down in his place; not that he wanted more rest, but out of dislike to being disturbed, and from a fit of morning ill-temperedness getting the upper hand.
Just then Dick was leaning out of the window half-dressed, and with his braces hanging down as if they were straps to haul him back in case he leaned too far.
Arthur glanced at his brother for a moment and then shouted:
“Here, Dick, shut that window!”
Dick evidently did not hear him, and a low giggling laugh reached his ears.
“They had better not try to play any tricks with me,” said Arthur to himself, as he lay frowning and feeling very much dissatisfied, as he thought, with Dick, but really with himself.