“Of course not. They didn’t want to learn.”
“That was it; and they egged Mariniaz on till he called me an English beast, and that upset me and made my tongue loose.”
“Well?”
“He said he knew from the first I had a spite against him, and had been trying to knock him over with the ball; and, feeling what a lie it was, I grew pepper, and told him it wasn’t the first time an English ball had knocked over a Spaniard, for I got thinking about our old chaps playing bowls when the news came about the Armada.”
“Yes?” cried Perry, for Cyril had stopped.
“Well, then, he turned more yellow than usual, and he gave me a backhanded smack across the face.”
“And what did you do?” cried Perry hotly, for the boy once more stopped.
“Oh, I went mad for a bit.”
“You—went mad?”
“I suppose so. My mother said I must have been mad, so I expect I was.”