“What will you do?”
“Lick you.”
“Then,” said Heathcote, mildly, “you’d better begin.”
The youthful champion evidently was not prepared for this cordial invitation, and looked anything but pleased to hear it.
“Well, why don’t you begin?” said Heathcote, following up his advantage.
“Because,” said the boy, looking rather uncomfortably around him, “I wouldn’t dirty my fingers on such a beast.”
Now if Heathcote had been a man of the world he would have divined that the present was a rare opportunity for catching his bumptious young friend by the ear, and making him carry out his threat then and there. But, being a simple-minded new boy, unlearned in the ways of the world, he merely said “Pooh!” and walked on, leaving his assailant in possession of the field, calling out “coward!” and “sneak!” after him till he was out of sight.
He was rather sorry afterwards for his mistake, as it turned out he might have been much more profitably and pleasantly employed outside than in.
Aspinall, whom he had come to look after, was nowhere visible, and, feeling somewhat concerned for his safety, Heathcote ventured to enquire of a junior who was loafing about in the passage, if he knew where the little new fellow was.
“In bed, of course,” said the junior, “and I’d advise you not to let yourself be seen, unless you want to get in an awful row,” added he solemnly.