Your brother Gerald is taller than you by two inches." "But I can beat him for all that, uncle," said I, colouring, and clenching my fist.
My uncle pulled down his right ruffle.

"'Gad so, Morton, you're a brave fellow," said he; "but I wish you were less of a hero and more of a scholar.

I wish you could beat him in Greek as well as in boxing.

I will tell you what Old Rowley said," and my uncle occupied the next quarter of an hour with a story.

The story opened the good old gentleman's heart; my laughter opened it still more.