Aleck started violently, and his eyes flashed through the narrow slits of lids.
“But I can’t treat you, an educated, thoughtful lad, in such a degrading way. The lash is only for those whose nature is low and vile—whose education has never placed them upon a level with such as you. It would be the right punishment for the lads who continually annoy and assault you. But as for you—Aleck, I am hurt and disappointed. To come back like this because a few boys pelted you!”
“No, uncle, it was not because of that,” cried the lad, warmly.
“Then, why was it, sir?”
Aleck was silent, and the sailor’s advice suddenly came to mind: “Tell him you won and thrashed your man.”
But the words would not come, and while he remained silent Captain Donne spoke again, very sternly now:
“Do you hear me, sir?”
“Yes, uncle,” said the boy, desperately.
“Then answer my question. You say it was not because you were pelted and called names. Why, then, did you degrade yourself like this and fight?”
“It was because—no, no, uncle,” cried the boy, through his teeth, which were compressed tightly as if he was afraid that the simple truth would escape; “I—I can’t tell you.”