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Updated: October 26, 2025
The weight of the boy sitting on it being removed, the unfortunate Jack found it impossible to force his way any further, and thus remained unable to extricate himself from between the bars of the obstacle. "Fenleigh," said the master, "get up off the ground. What are you doing, sir?" The boy struggled to his feet, and in doing so revealed the glories of the chest-protector.
"You've just come in time to help us to teach this cousin of yours a lesson on the subject of not overworking himself." "Leave him alone!" repeated Jack angrily, giving Rosher a push which sent him staggering back into the fireplace, where he knocked over the metronome, which fell with a crash on the fender. "Don't be a fool, Fenleigh," cried Teal. "We're going to teach this chap a lesson.
"It's possible to do most things when it comes to a case like that," answered the other quietly. "Besides, I remembered not to look down." That sort of answer didn't suit Fenleigh J.; he caught hold of the speaker, and smacked him on the back. "Look here, Valentine, the truth is you're a jolly fine fellow, and I never knew it until this moment." The party strolled on across the field.
"I must do it," he muttered, feeling in his pocket for the ring; "I promised him I would." He pushed open the gate, and walked almost on tiptoe down the path, casting anxious glances at the windows. To his great relief it was not Jane who opened the door, but a new servant. "Is Miss Fenleigh in?" he stammered.
Every one for the moment was too much taken aback to speak. The smouldering fire of Jack's wrath had only needed this breeze to set it into a flame. His undisciplined spirit immediately showed itself in an outburst of ungovernable anger. "You are a cad and a liar!" he said. "Wait till I get you outside." "Hush! hush!" interrupted Miss Fenleigh, fearing a repetition of the previous encounter.
Suddenly the youngster flung down the book in a rage, and kicked it across the passage, whereupon Jack promptly cried, "No goal!" "Hallo, little Garston!" he continued, "what's up with you?" "Why, I've got to write out the translation of some of this Caesar for old Thorpe, and I can't make head or tail of the blessed stuff. I say, Fenleigh, you might do a bit for me!"
Rowlands entered the room, the first thing which met his gaze being the extraordinary spectacle of Jack Fenleigh, who, like a new kind of snail, was crawling along the floor on his hands and knees with a cane-bottomed chair fixed firmly on the centre of his back.
But there was two of 'em, this one and another." "Did this really happen, Fenleigh?" "Yes, sir." "Who else was with you?" "My cousin, Raymond Fosberton. It was he who knocked over the lamp." "That's a lie!" interrupted the man. "It was you done it. I seed you with my own eyes." "I don't think I need detain you any longer," said Mr. Westford, turning to the owner of the cocoa-nuts.
Jack, however, had no eye for these details; his attention was centred in a group of boys who were struggling under the single gas-jet, which was flaring away in a manner which showed it had evidently been turned up in a hurry. "Here, leave that chap alone!" he exclaimed, plunging into the centre of the scrimmage. "Let him alone, I say!" "Hallo! it's Fenleigh J.," cried Garston.
"Well, I can hardly tell you," replied Miss Fenleigh; "I've only seen him once, poor boy, and that was several years ago." "But why don't we ever see Uncle Basil?" persisted Barbara. "You often come and visit us, and why doesn't he?" "Well, I live within ten miles of your house, and Padbury is thirty or forty miles on the other side of Melchester."
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