He had parted with all his available "swoppable" goods; he had stood on a form and sung little hymns to a derisive audience; he had answered questions as to his mother, his sister, and other members of his family; he had endured buffeting and kicks, till he was fairly worn out, and till it ceased to be amusing to torment him.
When finally he was released, and found himself on his way to the dormitory, under Dick's sheltering wing, he broke down.
"I wish I was dead," he said, miserably, "it's awful here." "Don't talk like that," said Dick, a trifle impatiently, for with all his good heart he got tired of the boy's perpetual tears.

"You'll get used to it soon.

Haven't you got any pluck in you ?" "It's all very well for you," said the boy; "fellows seem to let you alone, and not care to touch you; but they see I can't stand up for myself." "More shame if they do," said Dick bluntly; "I don't believe you when you say so.

I call it cant.

How do you know?
You can't tell till you try." "Oh, don't be angry, please," said the boy.