And Rex was quick to follow.
"O Ted, I didn't mean it. Let's forget we ever did it. I do believe you never said that. Hatchard's a mean sneak himself. I only didn't want to tell you that it was you who blotted my exercise by mistake when you passed my desk. I thought you'd be so sorry. But it would have been better to tell you than to go on like this."
Rex's explanation was too much for Ted. Ten years old though he was, the tears rushed to his eyes, and he felt as if he could never forgive himself.
He told his mother all about it that evening. He could not feel happy till he did so, and even before he had said anything she knew that the little tug to her sleeve and the whispered "Mother, I want to speak to you," was coming. And even when he had told her all about the quarrel and reconciliation, he hung on, looking as if there were something more to tell.
"What is it, my boy?" said his mother; "have you anything more to say?"
Ted's face flushed.
"Yes, mother," he said. "I wanted to ask you this. When Rex and I had settled it all right again, we still felt rather unhappy. It did seem so horrid to have hit each other like that, it seemed to leave a mark. So, mother, we wanted to take it quite away, and we kissed each other. And we felt quite happy, only—was it a very babyish thing to do? Was it unmanly, mother?" /
His mother drew him towards her and looked lovingly into his anxious face.
"Unmanly, my boy? No indeed," she said, "it was kind and good, and kindness and goodness can never be unmanly."
And Ted, quite at rest now, went off to bed.