Apparently it never occurred to Ilinka to take refuge from the missile;
he merely guarded his head with his hands.

"Well, that's enough now," added Seriosha, with a forced laugh. "You
DESERVE to be hurt if you can't take things in fun. Now let's go
downstairs."

I could not help looking with some compassion at the miserable creature
on the floor as, his face buried in the dictionary, he lay there sobbing
almost as though he were in a fit.

"Oh, Sergius!" I said. "Why have you done this?"

"Well, you did it too! Besides, I did not cry this afternoon when I
knocked my leg and nearly broke it."

"True enough," I thought. "Ilinka is a poor whining sort of a chap,
while Seriosha is a boy--a REAL boy."

It never occurred to my mind that possibly poor Ilinka was suffering
far less from bodily pain than from the thought that five companions
for whom he may have felt a genuine liking had, for no reason at all,
combined to hurt and humiliate him.

I cannot explain my cruelty on this occasion. Why did I not step forward
to comfort and protect him? Where was the pitifulness which often made
me burst into tears at the sight of a young bird fallen from its nest,
or of a puppy being thrown over a wall, or of a chicken being killed by
the cook for soup?