insisted upon dressing him, caused the boys to give him the name of
"Beauty," which was soon shortened into "Beaut," and had finally become
"the Beau."

"Will you let _me_ hit you?" he asked.

"Yes," replied Edgar. "Count three and hit. You can't hurt me."

As "the Beau" counted, "One--two--three"--Edgar gently inflated his
lungs, expanding his chest to its fullest extent, and then, at the
moment of receiving the blow, exhaled the air. He did not stagger or
flinch, though his antagonist struck straight from the shoulder, with a
brawny, small fist.

The rest of the boys, in turn, struck him--each time counting
three--with the same result. Finally "the Beau" said,

"_You_ hit _me_."

Edgar counted, "One--two--three"--and struck out with clenched fist, but
"the Beau" not knowing the trick, was promptly bowled over on the
grass--the shock making quick tears start in his forget-me-not blue
eyes.

The boys were, one and all, open and clamorous in their admiration.

"Pshaw," said young Edgar, indifferently. "It's nothing. All the boys in
Virginia can do that."

"Can you play leap-frog?" asked "Freckles"--a wiry looking little