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Updated: May 28, 2025
I tried to get away, but he stopped me, and they said they'd make me play." "Who said? Did Loman?" inquired Oliver, again. "Why yes," said Stephen falteringly, "he and the rest. They held me down in a chair, and made me take hold of the cards, and one of them opened my mouth and shouted beastly words down into it ugh!" "Was that Loman?" "No," said Stephen, relieved to be able to deny it.
Take one more, Master Loman's `A Funny Story. We are sorry to find Master Loman tells stories. Boys shouldn't tell stories; it's not right. But Master Loman unfortunately does tell stories, and this is one. He calls it `A Funny Story. That is a story to begin with, for it is not funny.
The latter saw that concealment was no longer possible; and bitterly he rued the day when first he heard the name of Cripps. That worthy, seeing the game to have come beautifully into his own hands, was not slow to take advantage of it. He beckoned Loman into the inner parlour, whither the boy tremblingly followed, leaving Simon to finish his glass of "the usual" undisturbed.
"Oh, I dare say; a nice report that would be. No, Tony must be there. He wouldn't miss it for a five-pound note." Stephen retired to report these rather alarming prospects of an audience to his comrades. "Talking of five-pound notes," said Wraysford, after he had gone, "does Loman ever mean to pay up that 8 pounds?" "I don't know; it doesn't look like it," said Oliver.
"You know, I suppose, that the questions which you actually had set for the Nightingale examination were quite different from those on the paper?" "Yes," said Loman. "I mean that is," he added, stammering, and taking up the paper in question. "I see by this paper they were quite different." "Yes; you can go now, Loman."
Hurriedly resuming his walk, Oliver passed Loman with averted eyes, and went on his way. "Well?" said Stephen, in the midst of undressing, as his brother entered the dormitory. "He wasn't there. I'll see him in the morning," said Oliver. "Good-night, Stee." "Good-night, Noll, old man!
When the match was over, Loman tried his best to slip away unobserved by his respectable town acquaintances; but they were far too polite to allow him. "Well," cried Mr Cripps, coolly joining the boy as he walked with the other players back to the school "well, you do do it, you do. Bless me! I call that proper sport, I do. What do you put on the game, bobs or sovereigns, eh?
And why on earth did he bring those other cads with him, all of whom Loman recognised as pot-house celebrities of his own acquaintance? No wonder if the boy lost his head and became flurried! He felt miserable every time the ball flew over to Cripps's side of the ground.
Loman had yet to learn that it is one thing to regret, and another thing to repent; that it is one thing to call one's self a fool, and another thing, quite, to cease to be one. But, as he said to himself, he must go through with it now, and the first step took him deeper than ever into the mire.
"Look here, you lame little wretch!" exclaimed Loman, in a passion; "if I have any more of your impudence I'll box your ears!" "I thought your wrist was sprained?" artlessly observed Pembury. "Here, young Paul, let's get behind you, there's a good fellow, I am in such a funk!"
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