CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.
THE BULLY.
There are bullies and bullies.

There is the big brother, for instance, who considers it as much part of his duty to administer an occasional cuff to his youthful relative, as he does to stroke his own chin for the first sign of a beard, or to wear his tall hat on Sundays.

That is not the sort of bullying any one complains of.

Pretty sort of fellows some of us would have turned out if we hadn't come in for a little wholesome knocking about in our day! What's the use of big brothers, we should like to know, if it's not to chastise youngsters! and what are younger brothers made for, if they are not to be occasionally "whopped!" When I first reached a "bullyable" age, I found myself number three of a set of five boys.

I had looked on in awe at the discipline inflicted by my eldest brother on number two; I had been a trembling spectator of scuffles and tears, and pulled ears and sore knuckles, and knew my turn for the same hardships was coming.