“Look here,” said he, as Scarfe entered, and making no movement to return his greeting, “is it true you were the fellow who told mother about Jeff, and had him sent away from here?”
“My dear Percy—”
“I’m not your dear Percy! Did you tell mother that story about Jeffreys?”
“Why, Percy, you don’t mean to say—”
“Shut up! You can Yes or No, can’t you?”
“I did my duty, and it’s a mercy you’re all rid of him!” said Scarfe, losing temper at being thus browbeaten by a boy of Percy’s age.
“Very well, you can go! You’re a cad, and you’re not wanted here!” said Percy.
“You young prig!” began the visitor; but Percy stopped him.
“Look here,” said he, “if you want to fight, say so, and come on! If you don’t, go! You’re a cad!”
Scarfe was staggered by this outbreak; he never suspected the boy had it in him. He tried to turn the matter off with a laugh.