Chapter 4

           Ericcamehomefromschoolonedaylookingangryandwithabiglumponhisforehead.Mommywasinthekitchen,andshewasjustasupsetaboutthelumpasErichadhopedshewouldbe.

           "Oh,darlingEric,whatever’shappened?"sheexclaimed,puttingherarmsaroundhim.

           "Christopherthrewastoneatme,"repliedEriccrossly.

           "Mygoodness!"saidMommy."Whatahorridboy!Whydidn’tyoucomeandtellme?"

           Ericshruggedhisshoulders."What’sthegoodofthat?Youcan’tthrowstones,anyway.Youcouldn’thitthesideofahouseifyoutried."

           "Nowyou’rebeingsilly,"saidMommy."Youdon’tthinkI’dthrowstonesatChristopher,doyou?"

           "Thenwhatelsewouldyouthrow?"askedEric."There’snothingelsetothrow—atleast,nothingsogood."

           Mommysighed.EvidentlyChristopherwasnottheonlyonewhocouldbehorrid.EricwasnobetterthanChristopherattimes.Buthowwasitpossiblethatherlittleboywiththosebigblueeyescouldbesuchafighter?

           "Whynottrytogetoutofthehabitoffighting?"saidMommy."Surelyyoucoulddiscussthingsinstead?Youknow,Eric,therereallyisn’tanyproblemthatcan’tbesolvedbytalkingitover."

           "Thereis!"saidEric."Likeyesterday.ChristopherandIfoughtthen,too."

           "Quiteunnecessary,"saidMommy."Youcouldjustaswellhavedecidedwhowasrightbyasensiblediscussion."

           Ericsatdownatthekitchentableandcradledhisinjuredheadinhishands."That’swhatyouthink,"hesaid,gloweringathismother.