’Fight，forthesakeofthejuniorfirst，’criedthelittlefellowinmyear，thecleverone，theheadofourclass，whohadmockedJohnFry，andknewallabouttheaorists，andtriedtomakemeknowit；butIneverwentmorethanthreeplacesup，andthenitwasanaccident，andIcamedownafterdinner。Theboyswereurgentroundmetofight，thoughmystomachwasnotupforit；andbeingveryslowofwitwhichisnotchargeableonme，Ilookedfromonetootherofthem，seekinganycureforit。NotthatIwasafraidoffighting，fornowIhadbeenthreeyearsatBlundell’s，andfoughten，allthattime，afightatleastonceeveryweek，tilltheboysbegantoknowme；onlythattheloadonmyheartwasnotsprightlyasofthehay-field。Itisaverysadthingtodwellon；butevennow，inmytimeofwisdom，Idoubtitisafondthingtoimagine，andamotherlytoinsistupon，thatboyscandowithoutfighting。Unlesstheybeverygoodboys，andafraidofoneanother。
’Nay，’Isaid，withmybackagainstthewrought-ironstayofthegate，whichwassocketedintoCop’shouse-front：’Iwillnotfighttheenow，RobinSnell，butwaittillIcomebackagain。’
’Takecoward’sblow，JackRidd，then，’criedhalfadozenlittleboys，shovingBobSnellforwardtodoit；
becausetheyallknewwellenough，havingstrivenwithmeerenow，andprovedmetobetheirmaster——theyknew，Isay，thatwithoutgreatchange，Iwouldneveracceptthatcontumely。ButItooklittleheedofthem，lookingindullwondermentatJohnFry，andSmiler，andtheblunderbuss，andPeggy。JohnFrywasscratchinghishead，Icouldsee，andgettingblueintheface，bythelightfromCop’sparlour-window，andgoingtoandfrouponSmiler，asifhewerehardsetwithit。AndallthetimehewaslookingbrisklyfrommyeyestothefistIwasclenching，andmethoughthetriedtowinkatmeinacovertmanner；andthenPeggywhiskedhertail。
’ShallIfight，John？’Isaidatlast；’Iwouldanyouhadnotcome，John。’