“Yes, ’tis rum,” said Mercer. “A nasty, disagreeable beggar. I hate him. But I am glad he wasn’t drowned.”
Chapter Thirty Three.
Dicksee only stayed till the following Christmas, and there was a general feeling of satisfaction in the school when it was known that he was not coming back after the holidays, Mr Hasnip forgetting himself so far as to say,—
“And a good job too.”
It was a great relief to be rid of him, for, as I told Mercer, he was always ten times more sneaky and aggravating during the last half, and you couldn’t stoop to hitting a fellow like that, especially when you knew how easily you could lick him.
“Oh, couldn’t you?” said Mercer. “I could, and I would too, if he spoke to me as he does to you.”
“Not you,” I said.
“I would. I believe he never forgave you for saving his life.”