The Loom of Destiny
The injustice of this stirred up Georgie's blood, and he fought with one of his assailants, whereupon the rest, in defiance of all principles of warfare hitherto recognised by Georgie, attacked him vigorously from behind, and sent him home with ruined clothes and a good deal of blood on his white collar.
There Georgie found it best to remain. He could not make his Uncle Charley see why an English-born boy should tog himself out like American children simply because he was spending a few months in America, though Georgie pointed out to his absent-minded old uncle that his English knickerbockers were so dreadfully baggy at the knees that street urchins naturally yelled "English Bloke" after him and offered to do battle with him on every occasion.
So there was nothing for it but to stay at home. He at least had the court, or, as Thomson called it, the back yard. This back yard was not large, but Georgie made the most of it. A high board fence, over which a few withered morning-glories climbed, shut it in from the rest of the world, and added
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