"Is he good?" asked Matilda.
"Good? David Bartholomew? Not particularly. Yes, he is good in a way. He knows how to behave himself."
"Then how is he not good?"
"He has a mind of his own," said Norton; "and if you try him, you will find he has a temper. I have seen him fight—I tell you!—like that Bengal tiger if he was a Jew; when a fellow tried him a little too hard. His mother don't know, and you mustn't tell mamma. The boys let him alone now."
"At school, was it?" said Matilda.
"At school. You see, fellows try a boy at school, all round, till they find where they can have him; and then he has got to shew what he is made of."
"Do they try you?"
"Well, no; they like me pretty well at St. Giles'."
"And they don't like David?"
"They let him alone," said Norton. "No, they don't like him much. He keeps himself to himself too much for their liking. They would forget he is a Jew, if he would forget it; but he never does."