seemed to fill with the energy of a giant. He shifted uneasily, his
senses all acutely alert to pick up even Mysie's faint gasp of shame, as
the hot blood suffused her face. Would she choose him before all these
others? He hoped she wouldn't, and he tried to summon a smile to hide
his uneasiness. Still Mysie hesitated. She wanted to choose Robert, but
if she did, perhaps the other boys and girls would tease them
afterwards.

"Oh, come on, Mysie. It's no' fair," cried one of the girls, getting
more and more impatient. "Choose an' be done wi' it. It's only a game."

Thus urged Mysie stepped forward, and, excited out of all judgment, her
face covered with shame, her heart thumping and galloping, she grabbed
the first hand she saw, which happened to be Peter Rundell's, and
something seemed to darken the day for all. Robert, now that he had not
been chosen, felt murder in his heart. His body felt charged with
energy, a flood of passion poured over him and he lost all discretion.
He saw only Peter's shining collar, his fine boots and good clothes, and
above all the smile, half of shame, half of triumph, upon his face. In
passing Peter staggered against Robert, who let drive with his fist, and
there was a fight before anyone really knew what had happened.

"What are ye shovin' at? Can ye no' watch folk's toes?" And he was on
Peter like a whirlwind. There was the hatred of years between them, and
they pummeled each other heartily.

"A fight, boys!" yelled the others. "Here's a fight!" and a crowd
rapidly gathered to watch operations, while little Mysie, who had been
the cause of it all, shrank back into a quiet corner, the tears running
from her eyes and a sore pain at her heart.