The men dined with them again that evening, and then they all played jackstraws until it was time for the girls to go to bed. Newingham continued his losing streak, much to his chagrin.
“Cheer up, Bunny,” Mr. Pryor said, as they made their way to the schoolroom for Pip’s lesson in defensive techniques. “It’s only a children’s game.”
That observation didn’t improve Newingham’s mood. He grumbled while Pip lit the candles, grumbled while Mr. Pryor moved the schoolroom furniture back against the walls, and grumbled while Lord Octavius peeled out of his tailcoat and turned up his shirt sleeves, but he stopped grumbling and watched intently when Pip went through the moves she’d learned last night. Newingham’s advice was surprisingly constructive. “Don’t punch with your hand; punch with your wh
