"When Foster discovered that he had won, he shed tears. But Saunders minor, though defeated, was quite collected in his mind. The men then shook hands and left the field with their friends.
"Remarks—
"We have seen better fights, and we have also seen worse ones. Foster has some good useful blows, but he wants patience and practice. He is not a born fighter, but might improve if he took pains. He had much the best of it in height and weight, including age, being a good deal older than his redoubtable antagonist. Though defeated, Saunders minor was by no means disgraced. He put up a very good fight, and at one time looked like winning; but luck was against him. Saunders minor, however, might give a very good account of himself with a man of his own size, and we hope soon to see him in the ring again. He has the knack of hitting hard and getting away. He was very little marked at the end of the battle, whereas his opponent's right eye will long bear the marks of his prowess.
(Signed) "LAWRENCE BASIL WEST, Esquire,
"Referee."
I read this to Saunders minor, and he agreed with it all, except the bit about being in the ring again soon. He assured me he did not care about fighting in a general way, or want to live for it, like West and me, but only now and again for some very special reason, as in the case of Foster. At any rate, though the loser, he had done all he wanted to do, and Foster had a caution of an eye that went on turning different colours, like a firework, till the very end of the term.
Such a wonderful, bulgy and curious eye could not of course be overlooked even by such a blind bat as old Briggs; and, needless to say, Browne jolly soon saw it. Then the truth came out, and that was the end of the Good Conduct Prize as far as Foster was concerned. He was frightfully sick about it; and when it began to appear that owing to these extraordinary things I, of all people, must get the Good Conduct Prize, he was sicker still, and called it a burlesque of justice, whatever that may be.
Anyway, it actually happened, and when prize day came, it was a clear and evident thing that I, Thwaites, had got the Good Conduct Prize in the third form. The Doctor began to read out the name; then, evidently under the idea that he had got it wrong, stopped and whispered to Mr. Warren, our form master; and Mr. Warren nodded, and the Doctor put on a puzzled look. Then he dashed at it and read out my name, and I had to go up and get the prize.
"A pleasing and unexpected circumstance, Geoffrey Thwaites," said the Doctor. "To be frank, that you should achieve this palm of victory causes me no little astonishment; but I can assure you that my surprise is only equalled by my gratification. You have not forgotten what I said to you last term, and I hope this satisfactory amelioration of manners may, when we reassemble, be followed by a corresponding increase of scholastic achievement. It will be no small gratification to your father, Geoffrey Thwaites, to welcome you under these conditions, instead of with the usual melancholy addition of a holiday punishment."
Then the Doctor picked up the Good Conduct Prize with a sort of innocent, inquiring air that he always puts on when giving the prizes. He pretends to be frightfully astonished at the beauty and magnificence of each book in turn; which, considering he chooses them all himself, is fearful bosh, and deceives nobody but a few mothers, who sometimes come if their sons happen to have pulled off anything.