“Do you hear!” cried Edgar again. “Get up.”
“Don’t: you hurt.”
“Yes: meant to hurt,” said Edgar, grinning. “Get up.”
He gave Dexter so sharp a dig with the stick that the latter jumped up angrily, and Edgar drew back; but on seeing that the visitor only went on a few yards to where there was a garden seat, and sat down again, the young tyrant became emboldened, and went behind the seat with a malicious look of satisfaction in his eyes.
“Don’t do that,” said Dexter quietly. “Let’s have a game at something. Do you think we might go in that boat?”
“I should think not indeed,” cried Edgar, who now seemed to have found his tongue. “Boats are for young gentlemen, not for boys from the Union.”
Dexter winced a little, and Edgar looked pleased.
“Get up!” he shouted; and he made another lunge with the stick.
“I’m always getting into trouble,” thought Dexter, as the result of the last few days’ teachings, “and I don’t want to do anything now.”
“Do you hear, blackguard? Get up!”