“Why,” he went on, drawing himself up with an air of pride, “we owe money all over the country. That’s why we came down to this rotten dull hole—because we hadn’t been down here before. And another reason they don’t like us is because that woman who lives with us isn’t father’s wife and she isn’t our mother either. I should rather think not! She’s a beast. I hate her,” he added reflectively. There was a great deal of all this that Jeremy didn’t understand, but he got from it an immense impression of romance and adventure. And then, as he looked across at the boy opposite to him, a new feeling came to him, a feeling that he had never known before. It was an exciting, strange emotion, something that was suddenly almost adoration. He was aware, all in a second, that he would do anything in the world for this strange boy. He would like to be ordered by him to run down the shoulder of the down and race across the sands and plunge into the sea, and he would do it, or to be commanded by him all the way to St. Mary’s, ever so many miles, to fetch something for him. It was so new an experience that he felt exceedingly shy about it, and could only sit there kicking at the turf and saying nothing. Humphrey’s brow was suddenly as black as thunder. He got up. “I see what it is,” he said. “You’re like the rest. Now I’ve told you what we are, you don’t want to have anything more to do with us. Well, you needn’t. Nobody asked you. You can just go back to your old parson and say to him, ‘Oh, father, I met such a _wicked_ boy to-day. He _was_ naughty, and I’m never going to talk to him again.’ All right, then. Go along.” The attack was so sudden that Jeremy was taken entirely by surprise. He had been completely absorbed by this new feeling; he had not known that he had been silent. “Oh, no. I don’t care what you are or your father or whether you haven’t any money. I’ve got some money. I’ll give it you if you like. And you shall have threepence more on Saturday—fourpence, if I know my Collect. I say”—he stammered over this request—“I wish you’d throw a stone from here and see how far you can.” Humphrey was immensely gratified. He bent down and picked up a pebble; then, straining backwards ever so slightly, slung it. It vanished into the blue sea. Jeremy sighed with admiration. “You _can_ throw,” he said. “Would you mind if I felt the muscle on your arm?” He felt it. He had never imagined such a muscle. “Do you think I could have more if I worked at it?” he asked, stretching out his own arm. Humphrey graciously felt it. “That’s not bad for a kid of your size,” he said. “You ought to lift weights in the morning. That’s the way to bring it up.” Then he added: “You’re a sporting kid. I like you. I’ll be here again same time to-morrow,” and without another word was running off, with a strange jumping motion, across the down.