"Let me out, let me go!" screamed the boy, in a furious passion. "I'll
go and tell Jones this minute, and he'll give you both the --- thrashing
you ever had."
"Pretty little dear," said East, patting the top of his hat.--"Hark how
he swears, Tom. Nicely brought up young man, ain't he, I don't think."
"Let me alone, --- you," roared the boy, foaming with rage, and kicking
at East, who quietly tripped him up, and deposited him on the floor in a
place of safety.
"Gently, young fellow," said he; "'tain't improving for little
whippersnappers like you to be indulging in blasphemy; so you stop that,
or you'll get something you won't like."
"I'll have you both licked when I get out, that I will," rejoined the
boy, beginning to snivel.
"Two can play at that game, mind you," said Tom, who had finished his
examination of the list. "Now you just listen here. We've just come
across the fives court, and Jones has four fags there already--two
more than he wants. If he'd wanted us to change, he'd have stopped us
himself. And here, you little blackguard, you've got seven names down on
your list besides ours, and five of them School-house." Tom walked up to
him, and jerked him on to his legs; he was by this time whining like a
whipped puppy. "Now just listen to me. We ain't going to fag for
Jones. If you tell him you've sent us, we'll each of us give you such
a thrashing as you'll remember.
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