and the Parson had carefully closed
the door, he took the boy's arm, turned him round to the light, and saw
at once that there was something very grave on his mind. Chucking him
under the chin, the Parson said cheerily, "Hold up your head, Kenelm. I
am sure you have done nothing unworthy of a gentleman."

"I don't know that. I fought a boy very little bigger than myself, and
I have been licked. I did not give in, though; but the other boys picked
me up, for I could not stand any longer; and the fellow is a great
bully; and his name is Butt; and he's the son of a lawyer; and he got my
head into chancery; and I have challenged him to fight again next
half; and unless you can help me to lick him, I shall never be good for
anything in the world,--never. It will break my heart."

"I am very glad to hear you have had the pluck to challenge him. Just
let me see how you double your fist. Well, that's not amiss. Now, put
yourself into a fighting attitude, and hit out at me,--hard! harder!
Pooh! that will never do. You should make your blows as straight as
an arrow. And that's not the way to stand. Stop,--so: well on your
haunches; weight on the left leg; good! Now, put on these gloves, and
I'll give you a lesson in boxing."

Five minutes afterwards Mrs. John Chillingly, entering the room to
summon her husband to breakfast, stood astounded to see him with his
coat off, and parrying the blows of Kenelm, who flew at him like a young
tiger. The good pastor at that moment might certainly have appeared a
fine type of muscular Christianity, but not of that kind of Christianity
out of which one makes Archbishops of Canterbury.

"Good gracious me!" faltered Mrs. John Chillingly; and then, wife-like,
flying to the protection of her husband, she seized Kenelm by the
shoulders, and gave him a good shaking. The Parson, who was sadly out
of breath, was not displeased at the interruption, but took that
opportunity to put on his coat, and said, "We'll begin again to-morrow.
Now, come to breakfast." But during breakfast Kenelm's face still
betrayed dejection, and he talked little and ate less.

As soon as the meal was over, he drew the Parson into the garden and
said, "I have been thinking, sir, that perhaps it is not fair to Butt
that I should be taking these lessons; and if it is not fair, I'd rather
not--"

"Give me your hand, my boy!" cried the Parson, transported. "The name
of Kenelm is not thrown away upon you. The natural desire of