"Are you going to be adopted?" asked the bully.
"Yes," said Cyril in desperation.
"Are you going to have five shillings a week?" demanded the bully.
"No—I'm going to have ten," roared Cyril.
A window belonging to Mr. Sharman's private house, which adjoined the school, flew open, and John Brown's name was sharply called. It entered into Arthur Smedley's mind to see what writing remained upon the wall, and he went across to the cloak-room for that purpose.
Whereupon Cyril looked to the right of him, to the left of him, to the back of him, and beheld neither friend nor foe in his vicinity; and he heaved a sigh of great satisfaction, ran to the fence, squeezed himself through a hole in it, and was upon the road towards home in a trice.
But before he had gone more than a hundred yards he heard quick footsteps behind him, and looking over his shoulder he saw John C. Brown. Then did a sickening sense of terror sweep over him, and his heart leapt into his mouth, for had he not said John Carew-Brown was "only the gardener's boy"?