Dickinson junior had told Tom Harte that Gladstone was a "blackguard"; whereupon Tom smote him between the eyes, so that the vile calumniator measured his length in congenial mud.

The conflict spread.

Twenty or thirty boys took coloured rosettes from their pockets (they were just leaving school) and pinned them to their coats, then rushed to combat with party war-cries.

Fletcher senior had behaved like a brutal coward (though alas! a Gladstonian--it was sorrowfully admitted), actually throwing a stone at an enemy who was engaged in single fight, with the result that he had cut open the head of one of his own friends--a most serious wound.

An under-master (never a favourite, and now loathed by the young Liversedges as a declared Tory) had interposed in the unfairest way--what else could be expected of him?
To all this Mrs.Liversedge gave ear not without pride, but as soon as possible she drew Lilian apart into a quiet room, and did her best to soothe the feverishness which was constantly declaring itself.
About three o'clock Mrs.Wade called.