“What’s your father?” repeated the fair boy, and then suddenly flicked Peter under the nose with his finger.
But this did at least enable Peter to change the subject. He smote at the fat-faced boy with great vigour and missed him. The fat-faced boy dodged back quickly.
“Hullo!” said Probyn. “Ginger!”
“That chap’s not going to touch my nose,” said Peter. “Anyhow.”
“Touch it when I like,” said the fat-faced boy.
“You won’t.”
“You want to fight?” asked the fat-faced boy, conscious of popular support.
Peter said he wasn’t going to have his nose flicked anyhow.
“Flick it again, Newton,” said Probyn, “and see.”
“I’ll show you in no time,” said Newton.