The hero stepped back a pace or two, to allow of a run worthy of the coming kick; and what might have happened no one knows. At that moment the door opened, and Pembury entered on his crutches.
At sight of this Fifth Form celebrity the Tadpole cringed and cowered, and tried to sneak out of the study unobserved. But Anthony was too quick for him. Gently hooking him by the coat-collar with the end of a crutch, he brought him back.
“What are you doing here?”
“Nothing.”
“Yes, he is,” shouted Stephen; “he’s been trying to take, away Oliver’s ink.”
“Silence, young gentleman, pray!” said Pembury, very grandly. Then, turning to the Tadpole, he added, “Oh, so you’ve been trying to bag some ink, have you?”
“Well, I only wanted a little; and this—”
“Silence! how much ink did you want?”
“Only half a potful.”
“You shall have half a potful!” said Pembury. “Come here.”