"You laughed at it this morning!" said I, striving to steady my voice. "Yes, I know I did, but only--only because!" she answered gently. "But you ain't--I mean are not--a coward; you fought your best--" "But to no purpose!" I added bitterly. "Nature has shaped me in such puny mould, I'm so miserably weak--" Here the arm tightened and, conscious thus of all the throbbing strength and vitality of her, I felt my own weakness the more. "Oh, I'm a miserable, undersized rat!" I groaned. "Hush!" she whispered, as if I had shocked her. "'Tisn't size or strength as wins a fight, Peregrine; 'tis quickness an' knowing how--but most of all being game-plucked. The next time a man hits ye, stand away and hit back; there's nothing will keep a man from hitting you like hitting him often and hard." "It seems that my uncles were right, after all!" said I. "Hard knocks are sometimes more efficacious than the best-reasoned arguments. You have seen many fights, I suppose, Diana?" "Lots!" "I wish you could teach me how it is done!" "Why, so I will, Peregrine--stand up! Now," she admonished, as we faced each other, "put up your hands--so!" Hereupon I imitated her posture. "Now," she continued, "I'm going to hit you in the face!" which she immediately did, though lightly and with her open hand. "Now hit me if you can, Peregrine." But though I tried my best, she was so wonderfully quick and light upon her feet that I smote but empty air or my blows were parried, while her hands flashed, now here, now there, to pat and tap my face as often as she would. So we sparred together until, flushed and laughing and breathless, we paused by common consent. And thus I had my first lesson in the Noble Art. "You do be very light o' your feet!" said she as we sat side by side beneath the tree again, "and much quicker than I thought, Peregrine!" "I--I'm glad--very glad you think so!" I answered vastly elated by this praise. "Yes, if you had proper teaching, you might be able to take your part against most o' them." Now at this I became filled with such a glow of pleasure as amazed me by its intensity, such indeed as no praise from tutors or even my loved aunt Julia had ever inspired. "Though to be sure," she added, "'t would all depend on whether you was game-plucked. No, size don't always count; why, Jessamy Todd ain't--is not--much bigger than you." "And who is he?" "Lord, haven't you heard? Why, Jessamy was one of the greatest, fiercest fighters that ever was, they say! But he had the ill-luck to kill a man and turned religious." "Do you know him?" "Very well. I've heard him preach often." "Preach?" said I. "Yes, Jessamy never fights now--unless he has to--goes about preaching. And he preaches as well as he used to fight, and sings as well as he preaches." "I should like to meet Jessamy Todd," said I. "Well, so you will, if you pad the hoof long enough. But now, what o'clock is it?"