“Mr Tomplin’s right, Bob,” said Uncle Jack. “You think of that boy as if he were sugar. I’m sure he does not want to take any steps; do you, Cob?”
“No,” I said; “if I may—”
I stopped short.
“May what?”
“Have a few lessons in boxing. I hate fighting; but I should like to thrash that big boy who kept hitting me most.”
Chapter Twenty Four.
Uncle Jack and I have a Run.
I did not have any lessons in boxing, in spite of my earnest desire.