After his punishment was over Tom could not help seeing that the better class of fellows somewhat shunned him. He could not say he was boycotted, but they showed no inclination to be in his company. This touched his pride. "I am as good as they are," he said to himself, "and a bit better nor some on 'em." He was delighted, however, to notice that Penrose acted differently from the rest, although he was by no means flattering.
"I told you you were an ass," he said. "If you go on in this way, you'll end by being kicked out of the Army."
Again Tom was wounded deeply. "Kicked out of the Army!" He had never dreamed of that. What! he, Tom Pollard, who had won prizes at the Mechanics' Institute, and who had ambition of one day becoming a manufacturer on his own account, kicked out of the Army!
"Come now, Tom," said Penrose, who almost repented of having spoken so sharply, "it is not too late to turn over a new leaf, and you have the makings of a fine fellow in you."
"I'd rather be kicked out of the Army as a straight chap than to be a blooming white-livered hypocrite."
"And do you think I'm a white-livered hypocrite?"
"A sort of plaster saint, anyhow," retorted Tom.
"Anything but that, Tom," replied Penrose; "all the same I've taken a liking to you."
"You have a nice way of showing it," replied Tom.
His anger was all gone now, for he instinctively felt that Penrose meant to be friendly.