Then two or three boys laughed and
sneered, and a big, brutal fellow who was standing in the middle of the
room picked up a slipper, and shied it at the kneeling boy, calling him
a snivelling young shaver. Then Tom saw the whole, and the next moment
the boot he had just pulled off flew straight at the head of the bully,
who had just time to throw up his arm and catch it on his elbow.
"Confound you, Brown! what's that for?" roared he, stamping with pain.
"Never mind what I mean," said Tom, stepping on to the floor, every drop
of blood in his body tingling; "if any fellow wants the other boot, he
knows how to get it."
What would have been the result is doubtful, for at this moment the
sixth-form boy came in, and not another word could be said. Tom and
the rest rushed into bed and finished their unrobing there, and the
old verger, as punctual as the clock, had put out the candle in another
minute, and toddled on to the next room, shutting their door with his
usual "Good-night, gen'lm'n."
There were many boys in the room by whom that little scene was taken to
heart before they slept. But sleep seemed to have deserted the pillow of
poor Tom. For some time his excitement, and the flood of memories
which chased one another through his brain, kept him from thinking or
resolving. His head throbbed, his heart leapt, and he could hardly keep
himself from springing out of bed and rushing about the room.
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