Boarding schools -- England -- Juvenile fiction; Schools -- Fiction; Students -- Juvenile fiction
"I'm sorry already," said Tempest, who had already gathered himself
together. "I hoped you'd fight like a man. As you're afraid to, I'm
sorry I touched you."
"I see nothing to fight about," said Crofter. "I don't see what there
is to be angry about."
Tempest waited motionless for a few uncomfortable moments, in the hope
that Crofter would pluck up spirit to accept the challenge. But, as
Crofter only smiled, he turned on his heel and strode out of the room.
As he passed me, he beckoned me imperiously to follow him. I did so in
terror.
He put a piece of paper and a pen before me.
"Write down there an account of every bill you paid, and the amount."
I obeyed--my memory fortunately served me for the task.
"Now go. You've had the satisfaction of seeing me make an ass of myself
in striking that cad--he's not worth it. You may go and tell him I'm
sorry if you like. As for you, I don't want to see any more of you. Go
to your captain, and leave me alone."
And he flung himself miserably into his chair, leaning forward with his
head on his hands, and apparently indifferent whether I stayed or went.
I went, leaving him thus. And the memory of him sitting there haunted
me all that night and for weeks to come.
When, next day, the news went round that Tempest had escaped expulsion,
the general delight was tempered with amazement at the rumour which
accompanied it, that he owed his escape to Crofter. No one but Crofter
himself could have put the latter story into circulation, and to any one
knowing the two seniors as well as I did, it was obvious that what had
completed the humiliation of one had been the crowning triumph of the
other.
Crofter could not have avenged himself for the insults of the term more
effectively; and Tempest's proud nature could not have suffered a
bitterer wound than to know that he had been put under an obligation in
spite of himself, and without the possibility of preventing it, by his
worst enemy.
The ordinary "Sharper" could hardly be expected to trouble himself about
questions of motive. It was sufficient for him that his hero was saved,
and that the credit of the popular act which saved him belonged to
Crofter.
Consequently both were cheered equally when they appeared in public, and
of the two Crofter accepted his popularity with a far better grace than
his mortified adversary.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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