“If you don’t give it to me there’ll be a jolly fine licking for you.”
Cedric weighed his chances before replying.
“You’re not much bigger than me; p’r’aps you’d get licked if you tried.”
“Don’t mean to try,” responded the base Lipchitty; “I shall get Monkton major to do it for me, and he’ll half kill you.”
Monkton major was no idle threat—a fellow of vast proportions with a gross and sullen countenance.
In imagination Cedric saw his beloved possession float over the horizon, but he made one final effort.
“Why should he lick me? I haven’t done anything.”
“I shall give him some silkworms to do it,” announced Lipchitty.
The system was exposed. Terrorism at a price. Wynne Rendall’s quick brain seized on the flaw, and was away with it in a second.
“Right!” he interrupted, “then I’ll give him a fountain pen not to do it.”