“Shall I read to you a bit now?”
“No! Bother your old books! Who wants to lie here and be read to about your jolly old Hentys, and Friths, and Percy Groves? I don’t want books; I want to go out on the mountain, or in the boat, and have a rattling good sail. Here, I shall get up.”
Max seized him and pressed him back, for he was very weak.
“The doctor says if you get out of bed, you’ll faint again, same as you did yesterday.”
“All right!” said Kenneth, struggling feebly; “I want to faint the same as I did yesterday. It will be a change.”
“Nonsense! you shall not get up.”
Kenneth lay back panting.
“Oh, how I do hate you!” he cried. “Just you wait till I get strong again. I’ll serve you out. Scoody and I will duck you, and get you on the pony, and—I know! Just you let me get a chance, and I’ll send you sailing down the falls just the same as I did.”
“No, you will not.”
“Oh, won’t I? you’ll see. If you knock me about again like this, I’ll wait my chance, and pepper you with grouse-shot, and see how you like that. I say!”