“Now, you know how it is yourself.  How do you like it?”

“Let me up,” demanded Godfrey, furiously.

“That’s what Alfred asked you to do,” said Andy, coolly.  “Why didn’t you do it?”

“Because I didn’t choose,” answered the prostrate boy, almost foaming at the mouth with rage and humiliation.

“Then I don’t choose to let you up.”

“You shall suffer for this,” said Godfrey, struggling, but in vain.

“Not from your hands.  Oh, you needn’t try so hard to get up.  I can hold you here all day if I choose.”

“You’re a low Irish boy!”

“You’re lower than I am just now,” said Andy.

“Let me up.”

“Why didn’t you let Alfred up?”

“He ran against me.”

“Did he mean to?”

“No, I didn’t, Andy,” said Alfred, who was standing near.  “I told Godfrey so, but he threw me over, and pressed on my breast so hard that it hurt me.”

“In this way,” said Andy, increasing the pressure on his prostrate enemy.

Godfrey renewed his struggles, but in vain.

“Please let him up now, Andy,” said Alfred, generously.

“If he’ll promise not to touch you any more, I will.”

“I won’t promise,” said Godfrey.  “I won’t promise anything to a low beggar.”

“Then you must feel the low beggar’s knee,” said Andy.

“You wouldn’t have got me down if I had been looking.  You got the advantage of me.”

“Did I?  Well, then, I’ll give you a chance.”

Andy rose to his feet, and Godfrey, relieved from the pressure, arose, too.  No sooner was he up than he flew like an enraged tiger at our hero, but Andy was quite his equal in strength, and, being cool, had the advantage.

The result was that in a few seconds he found himself once more on his back.

“You see,” said Andy, “it isn’t safe for you to attack me.  I won’t keep you down any longer, but if you touch Alfred again, I’ll give you something worse.”

Godfrey arose from the ground, and shook his fist at Andy.

“I’ll make you remember this,” he said.

“I want you to remember it yourself,” said Andy.

Godfrey didn’t answer, but made his way to the schoolroom, sullenly.

“Thank you, Andy,” said Alfred, gratefully, “for saving me from Godfrey.  He hurt me a good deal.”

“He’s a brute,” said Andy, warmly.  “Don’t be afraid of him, Alfred, but come and tell me if he touches you again.  I’ll give him something he won’t like.”

“You must be very strong, Andy,” said the little boy, admiringly.  “You knocked him over just as easy.”

Andy laughed.

“Did you ever know an Irish boy that couldn’t fight?” he asked.  “I’m better with my fists than with my brains, Alfred.”

“That’s because you never went to school much.  You’re getting on fast, Andy.”

“I’m tryin’, Alfred,” he said.  “It’s a shame for a big boy like me not to know as much as a little boy like you.”