But if there come but a poor creature in your hands that lacketh skill and strength, and would befriend you, down she shall go!" Dick was too furious to observe that "she." "Marry!" he cried, "and here is news! Of any two the one will still be stronger.

The better man throweth the worse, and the worse is well served.

Ye deserve a belting, Master Matcham, for your ill-guidance and unthankfulness to meward; and what ye deserve ye shall have." And Dick, who, even in his angriest temper, still preserved the appearance of composure, began to unbuckle his belt.
"Here shall be your supper," he said, grimly.

Matcham had stopped his tears; he was as white as a sheet, but he looked Dick steadily in the face, and never moved.

Dick took a step, swinging the belt.