nd over the top of the cricket-shed without being
able to capture him; and most of the others had exploits equally heroic
to boast of. Things were looking up in the Fourth Junior.
They spent a merry morning, these young rebels, wondering in whispers
over their lessons what this and that Sixth or Fifth Form fellow had
done without them. With great glee they imagined Raleigh blacking his
own boots and Pembury boiling his own eggs, and the very idea of such
wonders quite frightened them. At that rate Saint Dominic's would come
to a standstill altogether.
"Serve 'em right!" said Bramble; "they want a lesson. I wish I'd two
fellows to strike against instead of one!"
"One's enough if he strikes you back," said Stephen, with a rueful grin.
Master Bramble evinced his sympathy by laughing aloud. "I say, you look
just like a clown; doesn't he, Padger, with his eye all sorts of colours
and his cheek like a house on fire?"
"All very well," said Stephen; "I wish you'd got my cheek."
"Bramby's got cheek enough of his own, I guess," put in Paul; whereat
Master Bramble fired up, and a quarrel became imminent.
However, Stephen prevented it by calling back attention to his own
picturesque countenance. "I don't mind the eye, that don't hurt; but I
can tell you, you fellows, my cheek's awful!"
"I always said you'd got an awful cheek of your own, young Greenfield,"
said Bramble, laughing, as if _he_ was the inventor of the joke.
Stephen glowered at him.
"Well, you said so yourself," put in Bramble, a little mildly, for since
Stephen's exploit yesterday that young hero had advanced a good deal in
the respect of his fellows. "But, I say, why don't you stick some
lotion or something on it? It'll never get right if you don't, will it,
Padger?"
Padger suggested that young Greenfield might possibly have to have his
cheek cut off if he didn't look-out, and Paul said the sooner he
"stashed his cheek" the better.
The result of this friendly and witty conference was that Stephen took
it into his head to cure his cheek, and to that end applied for leave
from Mr Rastle to go down that afternoon to Maltby to get something
from the chemist.
Mr Rastle gave him leave, and told him the best sort of lotion to ask
for, and so, as soon as afternoon school was over, our young champion
sallied boldly forth on his errand. He felt very self-satisfied and
forgiving to all the world as he walked along. There was no doubt about
it
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