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Briefly, buzz! buzz! buzz! Gray was crushed, Trevethick driven out of the country, stout Steevie thwarted, badgered, taunted, and even insulted, and bespattered with dirt I might say with dung, since his opponents discharged their own brains at him by speech and writing. At last, when, after the manner of men, they had manured their benefactor well, they consented to reap him.
The small youth, however, finding himself in a bantering mood, pursued his questions with increasing venom. "I suppose they call you Steenie at home?" he observed, with a sneer that was meant to be quite annihilating. "No, they don't," replied Stephen; "mother calls me Steevie." "Oh, Steevie, does she? Well, Steevie, were you ever licked over the knuckles with a ruler?"
Go and kiss your mammy, and tell your big brother what they did to little duckie Steevie, did they then? they shouldn't! Give him a suck of his bottle! oh, my!" and he finished up with a most withering laugh. Then, suddenly remembering his errand, he walked up to the table, and said, "I want that inkpot!" Now was Stephen's time. He was just in the humour for an argument with this young Philistine.
"Come now, lads, be advised and go no farther than Winchester, where Master Ambrose may get all the book-learning he is ever craving for, and you, Master Steevie, may prentice yourself to some good trade." "Prentice!" cried Stephen, scornfully. "Ay, ay. As good blood as thine has been prenticed," returned Joan.
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