“Well,” said Mr. Sant, smiling, “I’ll take your word for it, because I believe, after all, it’s an honest word. But the point is this. Muscle and constitution are slow growers, and while my man was training to improve his, you could be improving yours. Science, on the other hand, can be taught, and I mean to teach him science until I consider he’s your equal and better. When that comes about you shall fight again, and I’ll umpire. Do you agree?” “_Don’t_ I!” said the boy. “Very well. Only I must have an understanding. You must leave him unmolested in the mean time.” “I’ll do it!” cried the lad. “I’ll do more. I’ll fight any one as putts a finger on un.” “The right spirit, that,” said Mr. Sant, with an approving face. “We’ll agree to decide it, then--in a month’s time, say? I’d keep it to myself if I were you. Good morning!” The boy pulled his forelock, hesitated, mumbled with a blush and grin, “You’re a gen’leman, sir,” and casting a saucy, triumphant glance at me, retreated. Simultaneously, Mr. Sant took me by the shoulder, and, hurrying me back to the rectory study, procured cold water and a sponge, and shut himself in with me. I felt half stupefied between the blows I had received and the prospect of others yet to come, in the matter of which, it appeared, I was to be allowed no choice. But there I was wrong. Mr. Sant, as he sponged with great consideration my swollen places, took up the tale at once. “Now, Richard,” he said, “this is going to be, I think, the first great test of your life. You can refuse it if you like, without any loss of honour. You were bullied by a stronger boy, and you endured your ill-treatment without telling tales. That was to be a gentleman. You suffered insult--a little too long, perhaps--and only resented it when directed against some one whom you very rightly love and respect. Well, that was again to be a gentleman.” I flushed crimson with pleasure, and he mopped hard away, talking all the time. “You heard the engagement I made for you? Well, I tell you, you can decline quite honourably to stand by it. If you do, don’t think I shall blame you. On the contrary, I will see that an effective end is put to this tyranny. You have proved yourself, and that is enough. Now, if you would like me to state the facts to your uncle, I will do so at once.” “Yes, please,” I stuttered through the sponge. “Very well,” he answered, but dryly, I thought. “I could have trained you, perhaps, to stand up to this young bruiser; but without doubt you choose the Christian part. I will speak to Mr. Paxton.” “Please, sir,” I said, “I don’t think he’d understand why I’ve _got_ to fight, unless you told him.” His hand quite bumped my poor nose with the start he gave. “You want it to come off, then, Richard? This is a little shocking, I’m afraid; but perhaps I can’t altogether blame you. He’s a young Samson, mind.”