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Leave him to me." "Will you see fair play between them, sir? He oughtn't to be let off without being made to keep his word." "If there is any dispute between you and Bultitude," said Mr. Blinkhorn, "I have no objection to settle it provided it is within my province." "Settle it without me," said Paul hurriedly. "I've leave to go home. I'm ill." "Who gave you leave to go home?" asked the master.
She had deep grey eyes and glossy brown hair falling over her forehead and down her back in soft straight masses, her face was oval rather than round, and slightly serious, though her smile was pretty and gay. She ran towards Mr. Bultitude with a glad little cry, stretching out her hands. "Dick! dear Dick!" she said, "I am so glad! I thought you'd be down early; as you used to be.
It was perfectly dark and the rags smelt unpleasantly, but Mr. Bultitude was very glad of this second ark of refuge, even though he did bruise his legs over the broom-handles; he was gladder still by-and-by, when he heard a rapid heavy footfall outside, and a voice he knew only too well, saying, "I want to see the station-master. Ha, there he is. Good evening, station-master, you know me Dr.
Not even an omnibus! I shall write to the manager and report this. Let some one go for a fly immediately. Boys, go into the waiting room till I come to you. Stay there are too many for one fly. Coker, Coggs, and, let me see, yes, Bultitude, you all know your way. Walk on and tell Mrs. Grimstone we are coming."
There was a veiled defiance in his voice that seemed meant for more than Dick, and alarmed Mr. Bultitude; however, he tried to calm his uneasiness and persuade himself that it was part of the plot. "Will you say that?" cried Dick excitedly. "On one condition, which I'll tell you by-and-by.
Bultitude being endowed with what is euphemistically termed a "presence," and it was with an agony rarely felt at such a discovery that he realised that, for the first time for more than twenty years, he actually had a waist.
Richard Bultitude, remain there till I return to mete out to you with no sparing hand the punishment you have so richly merited." With these awful words the Doctor left the room, leaving Paul in a state of abject horror and dread which need not be described.
So he began at the first opportunity: "You have this evening's paper, I see. No telegrams of importance, I suppose?" "No, sir," said the Doctor shortly. "I saw a report in to-day's Times," said poor Mr. Bultitude, with a desperate attempt at his most conversational and instructive manner, "I saw a report that the camphor crop was likely to be a failure this season.
Of course all boys in the first form, and all in the second above Bultitude and Jolland, will write as they please, as usual. Richard, I expect you to take particular pains to write this out neatly. Are you all ready? Very well then, ... now;" and he read out the following letter, slowly
"Hallo, Bultitude!" he said, "I thought it was you. Here we are again, eh? Ugh!" and he giggled dismally. He was a pale-faced boy with freckles, very light green eyes, long, rather ragged black hair, a slouching walk, and a smile half-simpering, half-impudent. Mr. Bultitude was greatly staggered by the presumption of so small a boy venturing to address him in this way.
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