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Updated: June 12, 2025
"You want me, Severn?" cried the little fellow, looking from one to the other wonderingly as soon as he realised that his friend was not alone. "Yes. Slegge and I have been talking about you. He wants to say a word or two to you about hurting you the other day." The little fellow glanced more wonderingly than ever at his big enemy.
That's about all he's fit for. Dressed up to imitate an English gentleman! Look at him! His clothes don't fit, even if they are made by a proper tailor." "It's he who doesn't fit his clothes," cried one of the circle. "Well done, Burney!" cried Slegge approvingly. "That's it. Look at his hands and feet. Bah! I haven't patience with it.
Slegge said it was all "bosh;" for fifty years ago a boy at school had not learned to declare that everything which did not suit his taste was "rot." So Slegge stood leaning up against the playground wall with a supercilious sneer upon his lip, and said it was all "bosh," and only fit for children.
I'll have Burney. What do you say to Slegge?" Singh made no reply, but stood scowling out of the window. "But I say, the first thing will be that they will ask what the row's about. What were we quarrelling for, Singhy?" There was no reply. "Oh, I remember," continued Glyn. "Because I bullied you about showing off with that belt. Well, we can't say anything about that. What shall we say?
"Well," said Glyn, whose rage seemed to have entirely evaporated, "I suppose that it would pretty well ruin you, at all events for this school. I don't want to be hard on you; but I can't help half-hating you, Slegge, for the way you have behaved to that poor little beggar Burton. Look here, Slegge, if you say honestly that you beg pardon " "Yes," cried the lad. "I do beg your pardon, Severn!"
Cheer, you little beggars! Why don't you cheer?" The adjuration fell flat, for not a boy uttered a sound, save one who exclaimed, "Oh, what a shame!" and then went off to the cricket-field, trying hard, poor little fellow! to suppress the natural desire to cry out and sob, for Slegge had "fetched him," as he termed it, a sounding slap upon the cheek, which echoed in the silence and cut the boy's lips against a sharp white tooth.
"That's one for you, Burton, when I get hold of you again," cried Slegge. "I shan't forget it. And here, what's the meaning of this? Where's my practice-bat?"
"And I have only one enemy Slegge," he thought to himself, as he softly blew out the candle and crept back into bed; but it was long ere sleep came, for the writing, run by the blotting-paper but still vivid, seemed to dance before his eyes, and as he now mentally read it: "It was Glyn Severn who stole the Prince's belt."
He slapped his pockets as he spoke, and half-held open that of his jacket, the thought of the succulent treasures contained therein having completely swept away all his past ill-humour. "Oh, I don't know that I want anything to-night," said Glyn. "Yes, I do. I want to find little Burton. After we had gone away to-day Slegge kicked him brutally." "What for?" cried Singh indignantly.
"He said, sir, he was not going to degrade himself by fighting like a street blackguard; and then Slegge jeered and mocked at him and set us all at him to call him coward and cur; and he ended, sir, by walking straight up to him, and he asked him three times if he'd fight, and Severn, sir, said he wouldn't, and then Slegge gave him a coward's blow one in the nose, sir, and made it bleed."
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