Arthur, and suffering under the latter's contumely, was
ready, of course, to take all for granted that was said in the disfavour
of this unfortunate convalescent. But why did he not write home to
Clavering, as he had done previously, giving an account of Pen's
misconduct, and of the particulars regarding it, which had now come to
his knowledge? He soon, in a letter to his brother-in-law, announced
that that nice young man, Mr. Pendennis, had escaped narrowly from a
fever, and that no doubt all Clavering, where he was so popular, would
be pleased at his recovery; and he mentioned that he had an interesting
case of compound fracture, an officer of distinction, which kept him
in town; but as for Fanny Bolton, he made no more mention of her in his
letters--no more than Pen himself had made mention of her. O you mothers
at home, how much do you think you know about your lads? How much do you
think you know?

But with Bows, there was no reason why Huxter should not speak his mind,
and so, a very short time after his conversation with Mrs. Bolton, Mr.
Sam talked to the musician about his early acquaintance with Pendennis;
described him as a confounded conceited blackguard, and expressed a
determination to punch his impudent head as soon as ever he should be
well enough to stand up like a man.

Then it was that Bows on his part spoke and told his version of the
story, whereof Arthur and little Fan were the hero and heroine; how they
had met by no contrivance of the former, but by a blunder of the
old Irishman, now in bed with a broken shin--how Pen had acted with
manliness and self-control in the business--how Mrs Bolton was an idiot;
and he related the conversation which he, Bows, had had with Pen, and
the sentiments uttered by the young man. Perhaps Bow's story caused some
twinges of conscience in the breast of Pen's accuser, and that gentleman
frankly owned that he had been wrong with regard to Arthur, and withdrew
his project for punching Mr. Pendennis's head.

But the cessation of his hostility for Pen did not diminish Huxter's
attentions to Fanny, which unlucky Mr Bows marked with his usual
jealousy and bitterness of spirit, "I have but to like anybody" the old
fellow thought, "and somebody is sure to come and be preferred to me. It
has been the same ill-luck with me since I was a lad, until now that I
am sixty years old. What can such a man as I am expect better than to be
laughed at? It is for the young to succeed, an