npleasant voice it is. Go
and bray somewhere else, donkey. Let's see, it was the ass that tried
to kick the sick--"

"Lion," interrupted Terry, with a sneer. "Are you a sick lion?"

"It would be precious vain to say yes," said Syd; "but I'll own to being
the sick lion if you'll own to being the beast who hoisted his heels."

"Bah!" ejaculated Terry, and he turned and stalked out of the place.

"Felt as if I should have liked to go at him again," cried Syd,
fiercely.

Barney winked to himself.

"He'll give me one for that, sir. Now then, just you try a spoonful o'
this; 'tain't too hot. Not a nyste sort o' young gen'leman, is he?"

"No, Barney," said Syd, taking the spoon.

"His pap was a bit sour p'raps when he was young, eh, Master Syd?"

"An overbearing bully!" cried Syd. "Only wait till I get strong again."

"And then you'll give it to him again, sir?"

"I don't want to quarrel or fight with anybody," said Syd, speaking
quickly and excitedly, between the spoonfuls of strong soup he was
swallowing.

"Course you don't, sir; you never was a quarrelsome young gent."

"But he is beyond bearing."

"That's true, sir; so he is. Only I mustn't say so. Lor', how I have
seen young gents fight afore now; but when it's been all over, they've
shook hands as if they'd found out who was strongest, and there's been
an end on it."

"Yes, Barney."

"But this young gen'leman, sir, don't seem to take his beating kindly.
Hauls down his colours, and you sends your orficer aboard to take
possession--puts, as you may say, your right hand in, but he wouldn't
take it."

"No, Barney," said Syd, as the bo'sun winked again to himself, "he
wouldn't shake hands."

"No, sir; he wouldn't. I see it all, and thought I ought to stop it,
but I knowed from the first you'd lick him; and it strikes me werry
hard, Mr Syd, sir, that you'll have to do all that there bit o' work
over again."

"But I'm weak now, and he may lick me, Barney," said Syd, who was making
a peculiar noise now with the spoon he held--a noise which sounded like
the word _soup_.

"Weak? not you, sir. Feels a bit down, but you'll soon forget that. I
wouldn't try to bring it on again, sir," said Barney, watching his young
master all the while.

"Bring it on? No," cried Sydney. "I tell you I hate fighting. I don't
like being hurt."

"Course not, sir."

"And I don't like hurting any one."

"Well, sir, strikes me that's foolish, 'cause there's no