The only person who did not enjoy the day was Blackall. He came back expecting every instant to be called up by the Doctor; but bed-time came, and he was not summoned. As he was on his way to his room he met Ellis, who was about to pass him without looking at him, or in any way taking notice of him.
“What do you mean by grinning at me, you young scamp?” exclaimed Blackall suddenly.
“I did not intentionally alter a muscle of my countenance,” answered Ellis quietly. “Did you, however, address me?”
“If that’s intended for impudence, take that,” cried Blackall, dealing a heavy blow with his fist on Ellis’s head. “I allow no young jackanapes like you to treat me with contempt.”
“But if we feel contempt, how do you expect to be treated?” exclaimed a brisk, confident voice close at his elbow.
Blackall turned round to see who had dared thus to beard him. He saw Bracebridge standing close to him, in an attitude which showed that he was prepared for an attack.
“You want to get it, do you?” exclaimed Blackall, furiously, at finding his authority disputed by a boy of Ernest’s size. “You shall have more than you expect.”
“Now, run off, Ellis; run off,” cried Ernest; “I’ll tackle this fellow.”
Ellis did not run, though Blackall let him go and advanced towards Ernest; but Ernest’s undaunted bearing completely staggered him. He stood irresolute; while his opponent fixed his eye boldly on him. He feared some trick. He thought that some big fellow must be behind, ready to back up Bracebridge; or that he knew the Doctor was coming. He judged of other people by what he knew himself to be. He had no conception of the existence of the spirit which animated Ernest.
“Well, what are you going to do?” said Ernest, as he stood with clenched fist before him. “If you are going to strike me, do it at once, and get it over. I have no wish to stay here all night, waiting to be attacked by you.”