“Now, my fine fellow!” said the man in the rough coat, in an imperious tone, attempting at the same time to push his way past.

“Now, Sir, wot’s the matter?” replied Sam, returning the push with compound interest.

“Come, none of this, my man; this won’t do with me,” said the owner of the rough coat, raising his voice, and turning white. “Here, Smouch!”

“Well, wot’s amiss here?” growled the man in the brown coat, who had been gradually sneaking up the court during this short dialogue.

“Only some insolence of this young man’s,” said the principal, giving Sam another push.

“Come, none o’ this gammon,” growled Smouch, giving him another, and a harder one.