"I announce a friendly boxing contest between Harberth of the Fifth, nine stone seven, and Funky Warren (said to be no longer Funky) of Barton's House, weight not worth mentioning," he declaimed.
"Are the gloves all right," called Cokeson (whose father owned racehorses, was a pillar of the National Sporting Club, and deeply interested in the welfare of a certain sporting newspaper).
"No fault can be found with Warren's gloves," said Shanner, coming over to Dam.
"There's nothing wrong with the gloves here," added Delorme, after visiting Harberth's corner.
This was the less remarkable in that there were no gloves whatsoever.
Presumably the fiction of a "friendly boxing contest" was to be stoutly maintained.

The crowd of delighted boys laughed.
"Then come here, both of you," said Cokeson.
The combatants complied.
"Don't hold and hit.

Don't butt nor trip.

Don't clinch.

Don't use knee, elbow, nor shoulder.