Bill smiled faintly. It seemed to him a daring defiance of Mr. Badger, but, after all, he wouldn’t fare any worse than he was sure of doing, and he finally acquiesced, though with serious doubts as to the propriety of the plan.
“Don’t say a word to let ’em know what you’re going to do. Bill—mind that!”
“No, I won’t.”
“You’ll be sure to find me waiting for you outside the house, just at the back of the barn. I’ll give you some supper when you reach the house.”
When the bound boy came from work in the evening he met stern, cold looks from Mr. and Mrs. Badger, but Andrew Jackson wore a look of triumphant malice. He was gloating over the punishment in reserve for the boy whom he so groundlessly hated.
“Ain’t you hungry?” he said tauntingly.
Bill looked at him, but did not answer.
“Oh, you needn’t answer. I know you are,” said the young tyrant. “You didn’t like it very much, going without your dinner. You ain’t going to have any supper, either. If you’re very hungry, though, and will go down on your knees and beg my pardon, I’ll get you something to eat. What do you say?”
“I won’t do what you say,” said Bill slowly. “I don’t care enough for supper to do that.”
“You don’t?” exclaimed Andrew angrily. “So you’re stubborn, are you? Anyhow, you can’t say I haven’t given you a chance.”