Godfrey didn't answer, but made his way to the schoolroom, sullenly.
"Thank you, Andy," said Alfred, gratefully, "for saving me from Godfrey. He hurt me a good deal."
"He's a brute," said Andy, warmly. "Don't be afraid of him, Alfred, but come and tell me if he touches you again. I'll give him something he won't like."
"You must be very strong, Andy," said the little boy, admiringly. "You knocked him over just as easy."
Andy laughed.
"Did you ever know an Irish boy that couldn't fight?" he asked. "I'm better with my fists than with my brains, Alfred."
"That's because you never went to school much. You're getting on fast, Andy."
"I'm tryin', Alfred," he said. "It's a shame for a big boy like me not to know as much as a little boy like you."
"You'll soon get ahead of me, Andy."
Meanwhile Godfrey had taken his place in school, feeling far from comfortable. He was outraged by the thought that Andy, whom he regarded as so much beneath him, should have had the audacity to throw him down, and put his knees on his breast. It made him grind his teeth when he thought of it. What should he do about it? He wanted to be revenged in some way, and he meant to be.