Peele fell to the ground for the second time. There was a cry of horror, as Polyhymnia, who had not accompanied her father, rushed up and supported his head on her lap; whilst Gough stood moodily looking on at his rival, and the abashed Guinea-Pig bolted, amid a shower of stilts flung at him by the enraged boys.
"You coward!" screamed Polyhymnia to Gough. "Oh, you base, cowardly wretch; you daren't fight him yourself, so you got some one else to attack him from behind. I'll never speak to you again."
Gough was too proud to exculpate himself at the expense of his injudicious follower. Peele at last opened his eyes. "It wasn't his fault," he said, magnanimous to the last; "don't let on to the Doctor," and fainted.
Peele remained a month in the sick-room. The first day he was able to come down into the matron's parlor he found Gough there, gloomily waiting for him.
"I've come," the latter explained, "to let you know I wasn't cad enough to plan hitting you from behind."
Peele looked at him curiously.
"I never thought you were," he said.
"The Doctor fancies it was an accident," moodily continued Gough; "and he's ordered all the stilts to be burned. Since then I've been thinking things over." He hesitated. "We could finish this affair in the holidays, on the sands at Boulogne. Perhaps pistols would be better; stilts are too uncertain," he added, darkly. "You shall have first shot to make up for this."
Polyhymnia entered the room.