He was older than I, but he was below me in class, and though he was
bigger, he was not a very great deal bigger; and if there is any truth
in the stories I have so often told, our family has been used to fight
against odds for many generations.

I thought about this a good deal, and measured Johnson Minor with my
eye. At last I got Henrietta to wrestle and box with me for practice.

She was always willing to do anything Tomboyish, indeed she was
generally willing to do anything one wanted, and her biceps were as
hard as mine, for I pinched them to see. We got two pairs of gloves,
much too big for us, and stuffed cotton wool in to make them like
boxing-gloves, as we used to stuff out the buff-coloured waistcoat
when we acted old gentlemen in it. But it did not do much good; for I
did not like to hurt Henrietta when I got a chance, and I do not think
she liked to hurt me. So I took to dumb-belling every morning in my
night-shirt; and at last I determined I would have it out with Johnson
Minor, once for all.

One afternoon, when the boys had been very friendly with me, and were
going to have me in the paper chase on Saturday, he came up in the old
way and began asking me about my father, quite gravely, like a sort of
poor imitation of Weston. So I turned round and said, "Whatever my
father was--he's dead. Your father's alive, Johnson, and if you
weren't a coward, you wouldn't go on bullying a fellow who hasn't got
one."

"I'm a coward, am I, Master Honourable?" said Johnson, turning
scarlet, and at the word _Honourable_ I thought he had broken my nose.