"The Dane," said Creakle, with another sneer. "All the fellows have refused to have anything to do with him. He's been sent to Coventry. He's a traitor's son, and the blot of treason hangs to his name."
"It's a lie," said Dick, hotly; "he's not a traitor's son," and with a back-handed slap of his hand, he sent Creakle reeling.
"It's true," said Tenny, as he edged in among the other lads. "All the lads of his home place will tell you the same thing, and you'll be treated the same way as we are treating him, if you don't cut him."
Dick, scarcely believing his ears, hurried off to his friend, Ande, bursting into the study with a bound.
"Do ye know why the fellows have cut you and me?"
"No."
"Why, they say you are the son of a traitor. That your father and grandfather were traitors to the government. Creakle said so, and I give him a back-handed slap that sent him some feet. It was Creakle who told me."
"The contemptible dog!" exclaimed Ande, with a flash of the eye. "It's not true, though the circumstances look the other way. They were both honourable men."
"You needn't tell me," said Dick. "I believe if your father and grandfather were like you, there couldn't be a bit of treason in them. I told Creakle it was a lie, and then Tenny spoke up and said that it was true, and that if I didn't cut you the same as the rest of them are doing, they would cut me. They have sent us to Coventry."
"Dick, you 'ave been a good friend to me, and you did right in treating Creakle as you did, for I should have done the same. The old blot that drove me from my native village will drive me from here as well. It is the curse that has been on our family since my grandfather's death, but you have no hand in this. You had better cut me, or they will make your life here as unbearable as mine. I'll move into a study of my own. It is for your own interest that I am looking."