Failing a gentleman friend, Mr Bevan was obliged to do what he could bymeans of local talent. On Sheen's next visit he was introduced to aburly youth of his own age, very taciturn, and apparently ferocious.

　　He, it seemed, was the knife and boot boy at the "Blue Boar", "did abit" with the gloves, and was willing to spar with Sheen provided MrBevan made it all right with the guv'nor; saw, that is so say, that hedid not get into trouble for passing in unprofessional frivolitymoments which should have been sacred to knives and boots. These termshaving been agreed to, he put on the gloves.

　　For the first time since he had begun his lessons, Sheen experienced anattack of his old shyness and dislike of hurting other people'sfeelings. He could not resist the thought that he had no grudge againstthe warden of the knives and boots. He hardly liked to hit him.

　　The other, however, did not share this prejudice. He rushed at Sheenwith such determination, that almost the first warning the latter hadthat the contest had begun was the collision of the back of his headwith the wall. Out in the middle of the room he did better, and wasbeginning to hold his own, in spite of a rousing thump on his left eye,when Joe Bevan called "Time!" A second round went off in much the sameway. His guard was more often in the right place, and his leads lesswild. At the conclusion of the round, pressure of business forced hisopponent to depart, and Sheen wound up his lesson with a couple ofminutes at the punching-ball. On the whole, he was pleased with hisfirst spar with someone who was really doing his best and trying tohurt him. With Joe Bevan and Francis there was always the feeling thatthey were playing down to him. Joe Bevan's gentle taps, in particular,were a little humiliating. But with his late opponent all had beenserious. It had been a real test, and he had come through it veryfairly. On the whole, he had taken more than he had given--his eyewould look curious tomorrow--but already he had thought out a way offoiling the burly youth's rushes. Next time he would really show histrue form.

　　The morrow, on which Sheen expected his eye to look curious, was theday he had promised to play fives with Mr Spence. He hoped that at theearly hour at which they had arranged to play it would not have reachedits worst stage; but when he looked in the glass at a quarter to seven,he beheld a small ridge of purple beneath it. It was not large, nor didit interfere with his sight, but it was very visible. Mr Spence,however, was a sportsman, and had boxed himself in his time, so therewas a chance that nothing would be said.

　　It was a raw, drizzly morning. There would probably be fewfives-players before breakfast, and the capture of the second courtshould be easy. So it turned out. Nobody was about when Sheen arrived.

　　He pinned his slip of paper to the door, and, after waiting for a shortwhile for Mr Spence and finding the process chilly, went for a trotround the gymnasium to pass the time.