r, "Vaccinated in four places!"

As Harry with difficulty drew himself from under the crushed hat, he
found himself confronted by the boy who had crushed it. It was Robert
Newall--the boy who had taunted the hunchback. He was a big,
strong-looking fellow, with sandy hair, prominent nose, prominent teeth,
and bold, self-confident face.

"Vaccinated in four places!" repeated Newall, with a mocking laugh.
"What asylum have you escaped from, kiddie?"

"Who are you? What did you do that for?" gasped Harry indignantly,
smoothing out his hat, and looking round helplessly for his friend
Plunger. But now that one of the Senior Form had taken up the baiting,
Plunger had been compelled to give way to him. He was only a cipher in
the mob of laughing, jeering boys who had gathered round Harry.

"Chest, twenty-eight inches. What a Samson it is!" jeered Newall. "All
your own?" He tapped Harry smartly on the chest with his knuckles, as
though he were testing it. "Yes, genuine article. You're a wonder--a
perfect wonder! And what's the biceps! Eight inches! Why, it's a regular
Hercules! It isn't every day that a marvel like you comes to Garside; so
walk round and show your muscle, kid."

Harry now saw that they were poking fun at him. His face was scarlet; he
was quivering with indignation. He was choking. The tears seemed very
near the floodgates. It was only with a strong effort he kept them back.
He did not answer his tormentor, but stared at him blank-eyed.

"Did you hear what I said?" went on Newall. "Come, wake up--walk!"

With a flip of his hand he sent the hat which Harry had been trying to
smooth out whirling amongst the throng of boys. There was a shriek of
laughter as the hat was caught, and sent whirling in turn to another
part of the throng. This was the finishing stroke to Harry. He burst
into a flood of passionate tears. The public school boy holds in
contempt the boy who cries. He regards it as girlish, unmanly.

"Oh, the fresher's a soft!" came from one in the throng.

"A soft, a soft!" passed from lip to lip. Plunger alone was dumb. He had
not wished that the joke which he had begun at Harry's expense should go
so far; but now that it had been taken from his hands he was powerless
to stop it.

"Oh, it's a squealer--a dear little squealer! Has it brought its bib and
tuck and feeding-bottle?" went on Newall, amid the laughter of his
companions.

Harry tried to choke back the scalding tears, which were coursing