"
"I think I shall make a hand of him though," said Tom, smiling, "say
what you will. There's something about him, every now and then, which
shows me he's got pluck somewhere in him. That's the only thing after
all that'll wash, ain't it, old Scud? But how to get at it and bring it
out?"
Tom took one hand out of his breeches-pocket and stuck it in his back
hair for a scratch, giving his hat a tilt over his nose, his one method
of invoking wisdom. He stared at the ground with a ludicrously puzzled
look, and presently looked up and met East's eyes. That young gentleman
slapped him on the back, and then put his arm round his shoulder, as
they strolled through the quadrangle together. "Tom," said he, "blest if
you ain't the best old fellow ever was. I do like to see you go into a
thing. Hang it, I wish I could take things as you do; but I never
can get higher than a joke. Everything's a joke. If I was going to be
flogged next minute, I should be in a blue funk, but I couldn't help
laughing at it for the life of me."
"Brown and East, you go and fag for Jones on the great fives court."
"Hullo, though, that's past a joke," broke out East, springing at
the young gentleman who addressed them, and catching him by the
collar.--"Here, Tommy, catch hold of him t'other side before he can
holla."
The youth was seized, and dragged, struggling, out of the quadrangle
into the School-house hall.
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