“All right.”
As John left the office, a small boot-black approached him.
“Shine yer boots?” he asked.
“Get out of my way!” said John, crossly, at the same time lifting his foot and kicking the boy.
“What did you do that for?” said the boy, angrily.
“Because I pleased.”
“Then take that;” and the knight of the brush swiftly touched John’s cheek with the dirty brush, leaving a black mark upon his assailant’s cheek.
John would have renewed the attack, but a chorus of laughter at his appearance drove him back into the office to wash off the black mark.
“I’ll wring his neck when I get a chance,” muttered John, angrily.
“He wouldn’t have touched you, if you had let him alone,” said Gilbert. “Why did you kick him?”