When Edward’s father heard this, he was very much grieved. Taking his boy upon his knee, he asked him to tell him all about his difficulty with James Parker, and why James had struck him.
“Why, you see, father,” began Edward, “he was building a house with the blocks you told us we might have from the building, and had got it up very high, when I told him, in fun, that I would knock it down, and threw a great stone at it, just by way of make believe. Somehow or other, the stone slipped in my hand, and struck his house, and knocked it all to pieces. But I didn’t mean to do it. And then he came up to me, with his face as red as blood, and struck me with all his might.”
“And then you struck him back again?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And then what did he do?”
“He doubled up his fist, as if he was going to hit me again.”
“But didn’t do it?”
“No. He stopped a minute, and then began to cry, and went off home.”
“Suppose he had struck you again—what would you have done?”
“I should have hit him back.”