“It is time to be moving,” says Cuthbert; “we promised the Prior to be home in time to sing vespers.” “Sing vespers! how pious we are!” said Nicholas, and the irreverent fellow clasped his hands together affectedly, and began to chant in a ridiculous voice the Psalm “Dixit Dominus.” “Stop that,” said several voices at once, and Nicholas obeyed, finding the general feeling was against such mockery, as it ought to be with sensible and manly boys. “Well, thank God, there will not be many more services in the Abbey; I am for _freedom_, for shaking off the yoke of bondage under which the old monks have kept us: those visitors who have been taking an inventory of the goods and chattels at the place, are only a token that the end is near; and it can’t come too soon for me.”[15] “More shame for you to say so, after you have been educated at the cost of the Abbey, and eaten and drunk its fare for many years,” said Cuthbert. “And poor fare I have found it: I daresay the Abbot’s favourites get better,” replied Nicholas. “‘Abbot’s favourites,’ what do you mean?” said Cuthbert, colouring. “Let those who find the cap fit, put it on.” “He means it for _you_, Cuthbert,” said two or three voices at once. “I suppose one can’t help being liked,” said Gregory Bell. “Nay, but one should not curry favour at the expense of others.” “That isn’t fair,” cried Adam Banister; “no one can say Cuthbert is a sneak.” “Sneak! who guided the commissioners to find the Abbot? that was the part of a sneak,” said Cuthbert; “but I know one way in which I could avoid favour; by running away from school and being brought back tied between two foxhounds, on all fours.” A general burst of laughter, and then Nicholas lost all self-control, and struck Cuthbert in the face. “A blow!” “A fair blow!” “A fight!” “A fight!” Yes, a fight was inevitable under the circumstances; according to the moral (or immoral) code of the fifteenth century, no one could receive a blow from an equal without returning it, unless he wished to be exiled from the society, whether of boys or men. Nothing was clearer to their eyes than that the duty of all good Christians was to fight each other. So the blow was returned, straight between the eyes. But a fight was too good a thing to be lost in that irregular manner: a ring was formed, two seconds selected, Gregory Bell for Cuthbert, and a cousin, like-minded with himself, for Grabber. Now we are not going to enter into the details of the fight--those who like a scene of the kind will find one well described in “Tom Brown’s School Days,”--suffice it to say in this instance, that the contest was long and desperate, not to say bloody, and that in spite of Grabber’s greater physical strength and weight, the skill and endurance of Cuthbert gave him the advantage, as indeed I think he deserved to have it.