angry because Jaap was trying his hardest to run over a cat:
“Leave the animal alone,” cried Addie, furiously, “or I’ll punch your head!”
“Oh?” roared Jaap. “You would, would you, Italian?”
Addie did not yet understand. But he had a vague recollection of hearing the name before. He did not at once recall the incident of that other boy:
“Why do you call me an Italian?” he asked.
The others were frightened, pulled Jaap’s sleeve.
“That’s nothing to do with it,” growled Jaap, taken aback. “You say you’re going to punch my head.”
But Addie, in a flash, remembered the boy and that shout in the street near the school:
“Out with it!” he cried. “Why do you call me an Italian?”
Chris and Piet tried to smooth things over:
“Come, don’t bother; he’s talking rot.”
“But why an Italian?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing!”
“Yes, there’s something. I mean to know!”
“Keep your hair on; it’s nothing.”
“Out with it!” cried Addie, scarlet with rage.
And he flew at Jaap’s throat.
“Oh, hang it! Shut up!” shouted the two others.
But Jaap and Addie were struggling. Their boyish hatred suddenly burst forth:
“Out with it! Why do you call me an Italian?”
Addie was very strong, stronger than Jaap, who
