He suddenly sat down on the turf, and Jeremy sat down too, dramatically picturing to himself the kind of thing that would happen did his father turn the corner and find him there amicably in league with his enemy. There followed a queer in-and-out little conversation, bewildering in some strange way, so that they seemed to sink deeper and deeper into the thick velvet pile of the green downs, lost to all the world that was humming like a top beyond the barrier.
“I liked your coming into the yard about your sister. That was damned plucky of you.”
For some reason hidden deep in the green down Jeremy had never before known praise that pleased him so deeply. He flushed, kicking the turf with the heels of his boots.
“You were cads to hit my sister,” he said. He let Hamlet’s collar go, and the dog went over and smelt the dirty trousers and sniffed at the rough, reddened hand.
“I know. You’re called Cole. You’re the son of the parson at the rectory.”
Jeremy nodded his head. The boy was now sprawling his length, his head resting on his arms, his thick legs stretched out.
“You’re awfully strong,” Jeremy suddenly said.
“I am that. I can throw a cricket ball from here to the church. I can wrestle anyone. Box, too.”
He didn’t say this boastfully, but quite calmly, stating well-known facts. Jeremy opened his eyes wide.
“I don’t go. I was kicked out of Harrow. But it didn’t matter anyway, because my governor couldn’t pay the school bills.”
Jeremy inquired, but his friend would give no reasons—only looked at him curiously and smiled. Then he suddenly went on in another tone: “You know everyone hates us, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know that,” said Jeremy. “Why is it?”
“Because we’re bad,” Humphrey said solemnly. “Our hand is against everyone, and everyone’s hand is against us.”
“Well, for one thing, they don’t like father. He’s got, if you were speaking very politely, what you’d call a damned bad temper. By Jove, you should see him lose it! He’s broken three chairs in the farm already! I don’t suppose we shall be here very long. We’re always moving about. Then another reason is that we never have any money. Father makes a bit racing sometimes, and then we’re flush for a week or two, but it never lasts long.