"What's the matter with you, Hector?" he asked, with a grin. "You
look as if you had lost your last friend."

Hector stopped short and regarded Guy fixedly.

"Do you know what your father has been saying to me?" he asked.

"Well, I can guess," answered Guy. "Ho! ho! It's a great joke that
you have all the time fancied yourself the heir of Castle Roscoe,
when you have no claim to it at all. I am the heir!" he added,
drawing himself up proudly; "and you are a poor dependent, and a
nobody. It's funny!"

"Perhaps you won't think it so funny after this!" said Hector,
coolly, exasperated beyond endurance. As he spoke he drew off, and
in an instant Guy measured his length upon the greensward.

Guy rose, his face livid with passion, in a frame of mind far from
funny. He clinched his fists and looked at Hector as if he wished to
annihilate him. "You'll pay for this," he screamed. "You'll repent
it, bitterly, you poor, nameless dependent, low-born, very likely--"

"Hold, there!" said Hector, advancing resolutely, and sternly facing
the angry boy. "Be careful what you say. If this story of your
father's is true, which I don't believe, you might have the decency
to let me alone, even if you don't sympathize with me. If you dare
to say or hint anything against my birth, I'll treat you worse than
I have yet."

"You'll suffer for this!" almost shrieked Guy.