Peter was very angry. He would gladly have retaliated, but one look at the broad shoulders and stalwart form of Phineas was enough to discourage any such attempt.
“Why don’t you take one of your size?” he said, sulkily, as he gathered himself slowly up from the ground.
“One reason is, because there isn’t any one of my size in school.”
“It’s cowardly to attack a smaller fellow.”
“Not when the smaller fellow sees fit to be impudent and insulting. But how long have you acted on that rule, Peter? Didn’t I see you fighting yesterday with Alfred Johnson, who is a head shorter than you are?”
“He wouldn’t lend me his ball.”
“He wasn’t obliged to, was he?”
“I hate a fellow that’s so careful of his things.”
“All right; I may want to borrow something of you some time. If you don’t lend it, I am to knock you down, am I?”
Peter did not find it convenient to answer this question. Circumstances altered cases, and it didn’t seem quite the same when he took the case to himself.