“You can spare yourself the trouble,” said Gilks, stopping short and folding his arms doggedly. “I won’t do it.”
“What!” cried Silk, in a passion.
It was the second time in one week that Silk had been thus defied—each time by a boy whom he had imagined to be completely in his power. Wyndham’s mutiny had not wholly surprised him, but from Gilks he had never expected it.
“I won’t do it, there!” said Gilks, now fairly at bay and determined enough.
Silk glared at him for a moment, then laughed scornfully.
“You won’t? You know what you are saying?”
“Yes, I know,” said Gilks.
“And you know what I shall do?”
“Yes, you’ll tell—”
Silk’s face fell. He was beginning to discover that once more he had overdone his part, and that the ground was taken from under him. But he made one last effort to recover himself.