Penlove was looking at him with a puzzled expression. Anthony was an inch taller than when Penlove had noticed him last.
"What is it?" he demanded.
"You called my mother a charwoman last term," answered Anthony. "She does go out cleaning when she can't get anything else to do. I think it fine of her. She wouldn't do it if it wasn't for me. But you meant it as an insult, didn't you?"
"Well," answered young Penlove, "what if I did?" He guessed what was coming, and somehow felt doubtful of the result notwithstanding the two years difference between them.
"I want you to say that you're sorry and promise never to do it again," answered Anthony.
It had to be gone through. Young Penlove girded his loins—to be exact, shortened his belt by a couple of holes and determined to acquit himself like an English schoolboy. Young Mowbray stepped to the end of the copse for the purpose of keeping cave.
It was a short fight, for which young Mowbray, who always felt a little sick on these occasions, was glad. Penlove was outclassed from the beginning. After the third round he held up his hand and gave Anthony best. Anthony helped him to rise, and
