“‘And if they fall, or if they rise,
Be each, pray God, a gentleman.’”
Now it was time for the cake.
“Jimmy, Jimmy!” called Mrs. Dunlee from the window. “You may bring the eggs now.”
All this while the little boys in the stable had been chatting, and had hardly thought of the eggs.
“Billy Dow thrashed me last night,” said Gilbert, shaking his fist at the rafters. “But I tell you I paid him off.”
“Paid him off, that big fellow?” said Jimmy.
“Of course! Did you s’pose Gilly was going to forgive him?” cried the little cousin from New York contemptuously. “Would you forgive a boy that thrashed you, Jimmy Dunlee?”
“Ye-es,—if I couldn’t catch him! If he was ever so much larger’n me!” was Jimmy’s candid reply.