"Well?" Miss Long questioned.
"Then Bob made fun of Rupert, and laughed at him. I thought they were going to quarrel; but fortunately the tea-bell rang just then."
"Oh, dear!" sighed Nellie, "I shall never make these cuffs. My fingers are so stiff and slow, and I keep on dropping stitches. I do wish you'd finish them for me, you dear old Lil, and then I could have a doll to dress instead."
"Very well," Lilian responded good-naturedly. "Miss Long, don't you think Bob Wills seems more than eight years old?"
"Yes, he certainly does, perhaps because he has been to school. He has an independent way with him which I remarked at once. Dear me, something has happened!"
Well might the governess say so, for at that moment the schoolroom door was flung violently open, and Rupert, holding a handkerchief to one eye, entered, followed by his visitor, whose countenance was exceedingly red.
"I hit him," Bob explained hastily, "and I'm afraid I've given him a black eye. Yes," he continued, as Rupert removed the handkerchief from his face, "I see I have. Oh, dear!"
"Was it an accident?" Miss Long inquired, as she examined her pupil's injury.
"No, he did it on purpose," Rupert informed her, his voice quivering with anger.
"Oh!" cried the little girls, whilst Bob hung his head guiltily.