The antics of the lad did not, however, delight Mr. Osborne's friends so much as they pleased the old gentleman. It gave Mr. Justice Coffin no pleasure to hear Georgy cut into the conversation and spoil his stories. Colonel Fogey was not interested in seeing the little boy half tipsy. Mr. Sergeant Toffy's lady felt no particular gratitude, when, with a twist of his elbow, he tilted a glass of port-wine over her yellow satin and laughed at the disaster; nor was she better pleased, although old Osborne was highly delighted, when Georgy "whopped" her third boy (a young gentleman a year older than Georgy, and by chance home for the holidays from Dr. Tickleus's at Ealing School) in Russell Square. George's grandfather gave the boy a couple of sovereigns for that feat and promised to reward him further for every boy above his own size and age whom he whopped in a similar manner. It is difficult to say what good the old man saw in these combats; he had a vague notion that quarrelling made boys hardy, and that tyranny was a useful accomplishment for them to learn. English youth have been so educated time out of mind, and we have hundreds of thousands of apologists and admirers of injustice, misery, and brutality, as perpetrated among children. Flushed with praise and victory over Master Toffy, George wished naturally to pursue his conquests further, and one day as he was strutting about in prodigiously dandified new clothes, near St. Pancras, and a young baker's boy made sarcastic comments upon his appearance, the youthful patrician pulled off his dandy jacket with great spirit, and giving it in charge to the friend who accompanied him (Master Todd, of Great Coram Street, Russell Square, son of the junior partner of the house of Osborne and Co.), George tried to whop the little baker. But the chances of war were unfavourable this time, and the little baker whopped Georgy, who came home with a rueful black eye and all his fine shirt frill dabbled with the claret drawn from his own little nose. He told his grandfather that he had been in combat with a giant, and frightened his poor mother at Brompton with long, and by no means authentic, accounts of the battle.

The lad's antics did not, however, delight Mr. Osborne's friends. It gave Mr. Justice Coffin no pleasure to hear Georgy cut into the conversation and spoil his stories. Colonel Fogey was not interested in seeing the little boy half tipsy. Mrs. Toffy felt no gratitude when he tilted a glass of port-wine over her yellow satin dress and laughed at the disaster; nor was she pleased, although old Osborne was highly delighted, when Georgy "whopped" her third boy. George's grandfather gave the boy two sovereigns for that feat and promised to reward him for every boy above his own size whom he whopped in a similar manner. It is difficult to say what the old man saw in these combats; he had a vague notion that quarrelling made boys hardy, and that tyranny was a useful accomplishment. English youth have long been so taught.
Flushed with victory over Master Toffy, George wished to pursue his conquests further. One day as he was strutting about in dandified new clothes, a young baker's boy made sarcastic comments. George pulled off his jacket with great spirit, and giving it to his friend Master Todd, tried to whop the little baker. But this time, the little baker whopped Georgy, who came home with a rueful black eye and all his fine shirt frill dabbled with blood from his own nose. He told his grandfather that he had fought a giant, and frightened his poor mother with long, and by no means authentic, accounts of the battle.
