These amiable young animals had of course sniffed the battle from afar very early in the evening, and, as usual, rushed into all sorts of extremes of enthusiasm on the subject. A fight! A fight between Fifth and Sixth! A fight between Greenfield senior and a monitor! Oh, it was too good to be true, a perfect luxury; something to be grateful for, and no mistake!
Of course a meeting was forthwith assembled to gloat over the auspicious event.
Bramble vehemently expressed his conviction that the Sixth Form man would eat up his opponent, and went the length of offering to cut off his own head and Padger’s if it turned out otherwise.
Paul and his friends, on the other hand, as vehemently backed the Fifth fellow.
“When’s it to come off, I say?” demanded Bramble.
“To-night, I should say, or first thing in the morning.”
“Sure to be to-night. My eye! won’t Greenfield senior look black and blue after it!”
“No, he won’t,” cried Paul.
“Turn him out!” shouted Bramble. “No one wants you here; do we, Padger? Get yourself out of the meeting, you sneak!”
“Get yourself out!” retorted Paul.