"Oh, let me run for the housekeeper," cried Tom. "What shall we do!"
"Fiddlesticks! it's nothing but the skin broken," said the relentless Diggs, feeling his head. "Cold water and a bit of rag's all he'll want."
"Let me go," said Flashman, surlily, sitting up; "I don't want your help."
"We're really very sorry," began East.
"Hang your sorrow," answered Flashman, holding his handkerchief to the place; "you shall pay for this, I can tell you, both of you." And he walked out of the Hall.
"He can't be very bad," said Tom, with a deep sigh, much relieved to see his enemy march so well.
"Not he," said Diggs, "and you'll see you won't be troubled with him any more. But, I say, your head's broken too—your collar is covered with blood."
"Is it, though?" said Tom, putting up his hand; "I didn't know it."
"Well, mop it up, or you'll have your jacket spoilt. And you have got a bad eye, Scud; you'd better go and bathe it well in cold water."
"Cheap enough, too, if we've done with our old friend Flashey," said East, as they made up-stairs to bathe their wounds.