“Where are you coming to, you kid. You’ve nearly smashed a button. I’ll welt you for that.”
“I beg your pardon, Wally, I—”
“Wally—what do you mean by calling me Wally?” exclaimed Percy.
“Well, Wheatfield, I beg your pardon; I was in a hurry to catch a fellow up and I didn’t see you.”
“Didn’t you? Well, you’ll feel me. Take that.”
Fisher minor meekly accepted the cuff, and, full of his half-crown, essayed to proceed. But Percy stopped him.
“You’re that new kid, Fisher’s minor, aren’t you?”
It astonished Fisher minor, that the speaker, whom he supposed he had seen only ten minutes ago, should so soon have forgotten his name.
“Yes, but I say, Wally, I mean Wheatfield—”
“Humph—I suppose you held up both hands for your precious brother yesterday.”