a coward," said Edgar to himself. "All that sort of boys are."
And with the determination of making his visitor a kind of captive to
his bow and spear, or, in plainer English, a slave to his caprices, he
went to one of the beds where some sticks had lately been put to some
young plants, and selecting one that was new, thin, and straight, he
went back on tiptoe, watched his opportunity, and then brought the stick
down sharply across Dexter's back.

He drew back for a few moments, his victim's aspect being menacing; but
Dexter's young spirit had been kept crushed down for a good many years,
and his custom had been under many a blow to sit and suffer patiently,
not even crying aloud, Mr Sibery objecting to any noise in the school.

Dexter had subsided again. The flashes that darted from his eyes had
died out, and those eyes looked subdued and moist.

For the boy was mentally, as well as bodily hurt, and he wondered what
Helen would say, and whether Sir James would correct his son if he saw
him behaving in that manner to his visitor.

"Hey: get up!" said Edgar, growing more bold, as he found that he could
ill-use his guest with impunity; and as he spoke he gave him a rough
poke or two with the sharp end of the stick, which had been pointed with
the gardener's pruning-knife.

His treatment of Dexter resembled that which he had been accustomed to
bestow upon an unfortunate dog he had once owned--one which became so
fond of him that at last it ran away.

"Do you hear!" cried Edgar again. "Get up."

"Don't: you hurt."

"Yes: meant to hurt," said Edgar, grinning. "Get up."

He gave Dexter so sharp a dig with the stick that the latter jumped up
angrily, and Edgar drew back; but on seeing that the visitor only went
on a few yards to where there was a garden seat, and sat down again, the
young tyrant became emboldened, and went behind the seat with a
malicious look of satisfaction in his eyes.

"Don't do that," said Dexter quietly. "Let's have a game at something.
Do you think we might go in that boat?"

"I should think not indeed," cried Edgar, who now seemed to have found
his tongue. "Boats are for young gentlemen, not for boys from the
Union."

Dexter winced a little, and Edgar looked pleased.

"Get up!" he shouted; and he made another lunge with the stick.

"I'm always getting into trouble," thought Dexter, as the result of the
last few days' teachings, "and I don't want to do anything now."

"Do you hea