And, so saying, the porter strutted indignantly off. Harry had reeled under the vigorous blow of the porter; but just before he recovered, a hand came down on his top-hat, and crushed it over his ears, while a voice cried, amid roars of laughter, "Vaccinated in four places!"
As Harry with difficulty drew himself from under the crushed hat, he found himself confronted by the boy who had crushed it. It was Robert Newall—the boy who had taunted the hunchback. He was a big, strong-looking fellow, with sandy hair, prominent nose, prominent teeth, and bold, self-confident face.
"Vaccinated in four places!" repeated Newall, with a mocking laugh. "What asylum have you escaped from, kiddie?"
"Who are you? What did you do that for?" gasped Harry indignantly, smoothing out his hat, and looking round helplessly for his friend Plunger. But now that one of the Senior Form had taken up the baiting, Plunger had been compelled to give way to him. He was only a cipher in the mob of laughing, jeering boys who had gathered round Harry.
"Chest, twenty-eight inches. What a Samson it is!" jeered Newall. "All your own?" He tapped Harry smartly on the chest with his knuckles, as though he were testing it. "Yes, genuine article. You're a wonder—a perfect wonder! And what's the biceps! Eight inches! Why, it's a regular Hercules! It isn't every day that a marvel like you comes to Garside; so walk round and show your muscle, kid."
Harry now saw that they were poking fun at him. His face was scarlet; he was quivering with indignation. He was choking. The tears seemed very near the floodgates. It was only with a strong effort he kept them back. He did not answer his tormentor, but stared at him blank-eyed.
"Did you hear what I said?" went on Newall. "Come, wake up—walk!"
With a flip of his hand he sent the hat which Harry had been trying to smooth out whirling amongst the throng of boys. There was a shriek of laughter as the hat was caught, and sent whirling in turn to another part of the throng. This was the finishing stroke to Harry. He burst into a flood of passionate tears. The public school boy holds in contempt the boy who cries. He regards it as girlish, unmanly.
"Oh, the fresher's a soft!" came from one in the throng.
"A soft, a soft!" passed from lip to lip. Plunger alone was dumb. He had not wished that the joke which he had begun at Harry's expense should go so far; but now that it had been taken from his hands he was powerless to stop it.