Of course I wrote to
Peggotty, relating my experiences, and how my aunt had taken me under her
care, and returning the half guinea I had borrowed, and Peggotty answered
promptly, but although she expressed herself as glad in my gladness, I
could see that she did not take quite kindly to my Aunt as yet.
The days glide swiftly on. I am higher in the school,--I am growing great
in Latin verse, think dancing school a tiresome affair, and neglect the
laces of my boots. Doctor Strong refers to me publicly as a promising
young scholar, at which my aunt remits me a guinea by the next post.
The shade of a young butcher crosses my path. He is the terror of Doctor
Strong's young gentlemen, whom he publicly disparages. He names
individuals (myself included) whom he could undertake to settle with one
hand, and the other tied behind him. He waylays the smaller boys to punch
their unprotected heads, and calls challenges after me in the streets. For
these reasons, I resolve to fight the butcher.
We meet by appointment with a select audience. Soon, I don't know where
the wall is, or where I am, or where anybody is, but after a bloody tangle
and tussle in the trodden grass, feeling very queer about the head, I
awake, and augur justly that the victory is not mine.
Pages:
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148