"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
nasty eye, Scud. You'd better go and bathe it well in cold water."
"Cheap enough too, if we're done with our old friend Flashey," said
East, as they made off upstairs to bathe their wounds.
They had done with Flashman in one sense, for he never laid finger on
either of them again; but whatever harm a spiteful heart and venomous
tongue could do them, he took care should be done. Only throw dirt
enough, and some of it is sure to stick; and so it was with the fifth
form and the bigger boys in general, with whom he associated more or
less, and they not at all. Flashman managed to get Tom and East into
disfavour, which did not wear off for some time after the author of it
had disappeared from the School world. This event, much prayed for
by the small fry in general, took place a few months after the above
encounter.
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