“Tell away then,” jeered Harpour; “better go and tell him before your shoes wear out.”
“Ah, you’ll change your tone, Master Harpour, when you’ve been well whopped,” answered Henderson.
“I should like to see Somers or any one else whop me,” said Harpour, in an extremely “Ercles vein”; “by Jove! Lane himself shouldn’t do it.”
“Oh, indeed!”
“I’ll ‘oh, indeed,’ you!” said Harpour, getting out of bed; but here Cradock interfered, seized Harpour with his brawny arm, and said—
“There, that’s badgering enough for one night. Do let a fellow go to sleep.”
Harpour got into bed again, and Henderson, once more reassuring Eden that he should not be again molested, followed his example. But, half with fright and half with pain, the poor boy lay awake most of the night, and when he did fall asleep he constantly started up again with troubled dreams.
Next morning the two parties in the dormitory would hardly speak to each other. They rose at daggers drawn, and in the highest dudgeon. Henderson was glad Anthony and Franklin had openly espoused the right side, and was pleased at anything which drew them out of the pernicious influence of the other two. This wasn’t by any means a pleasant state of things for Jones and Harpour, and it made them hate Eden, the innocent cause of it, more than ever. Moreover, Harpour who was not accustomed to be openly bearded, did not choose to let the reins of despotism slip so easily out of his hands, and he determined to avenge himself yet, and to show that neither entreaties nor threats should prevent him from being as great a bully as he chose.
“Understand you, Henderson,” he said, while they were dressing; “that I shall do exactly what I like to that little muff there.”
Eden reddened and said nothing; but Henderson, looking up from his wash-hand basin, replied—“And understand you, Harpour, that if you bully him any more, I’ll tell the head of the school.”