"Give it a smack and run, Bill," said the voice of a well-wisher inside.

"There'd be no need for 'im to run," said Mr. Billing. "I wouldn't hit
'im back for anything. I should turn the other cheek."

"Whaffor?" inquired the amazed Mr. Ricketts.

"For another swipe," said Mr. Billing, radiantly.

In the fraction of a second he got the first, and reeled back staggering.
The onlookers from the bar came out hastily. Mr. Ricketts, somewhat
pale, stood his ground.

"You see, I don't hit you," said Mr. Billing, with a ghastly attempt at a
smile.

He stood rubbing his cheek gently, and, remembering Mr. Purnip's
statements, slowly, inch by inch, turned the other in the direction of
his adversary. The circuit was still incomplete when Mr. Ricketts,
balancing himself carefully, fetched it a smash that nearly burst it.
Mr. Billing, somewhat jarred by his contact with the pavement, rose
painfully and confronted him.

"I've only got two cheeks, mind," he said, slowly.

Mr. Ricketts sighed. "I wish you'd got a blinking dozen," he said,
wistfully. "Well, so long. Be good."

He walked into the Blue Lion absolutely free from that sense of shame
which Mr. Purnip had predicted, and, accepting a pint from an admirer,