" And Tom tore up the list and threw the
pieces into the fire.
"And mind you, too," said East, "don't let me catch you again sneaking
about the School-house, and picking up our fags. You haven't got the
sort of hide to take a sound licking kindly." And he opened the door and
sent the young gentleman flying into the quadrangle with a parting kick.
"Nice boy, Tommy," said East, shoving his hands in his pockets, and
strolling to the fire.
"Worst sort we breed," responded Tom, following his example. "Thank
goodness, no big fellow ever took to petting me."
"You'd never have been like that," said East. "I should like to have put
him in a museum: Christian young gentleman, nineteenth century, highly
educated. Stir him up with a long pole, Jack, and hear him swear like a
drunken sailor. He'd make a respectable public open its eyes, I think."
"Think he'll tell Jones?" said Tom.
"No," said East. "Don't care if he does."
"Nor I," said Tom. And they went back to talk about Arthur.
The young gentleman had brains enough not to tell Jones, reasoning
that East and Brown, who were noted as some of the toughest fags in
the School, wouldn't care three straws for any licking Jones might give
them, and would be likely to keep their words as to passing it on with
interest.
After the above conversation, East came a good deal to their study, and
took notice of Arthur, and soon allowed to Tom that he was a thorough
little gentleman, and would get over his shyness all in good time; which
much comforted our hero.
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