"Good old sport, Bobby," quoth Fred to Sparrow, when recitations were over and they filed out. "Scubbity-yow! that was a soaker you gave me on the jaw. It's sore yet."
"I believe I'm going to have a black eye," revealed Sparrow, with pride.
They went off together, inseparable friends for the time being. Bobby remained behind, taking his books into the big study.
Mr. Leith did not speak to him again. In fact, nobody came near him before supper. When the boys came in, giggling and talking, just as unable as usual to settle down quietly to the meal until an adult eye was turned threateningly upon them, Bobby entered, too, but with such a lump in his throat that he felt that he could scarcely swallow a mouthful.
Nobody noticed his condition but Pee Wee, and he only to seize upon the pudding that Bobby could not touch. "You act as if you had the mumps and couldn't swallow," whispered the fat boy. "But what you can't eat I'll get rid of for you, Bobby."
Three wistful days passed. Bobby remained indoors, and the boys knew that he was being punished. Only three knew what for, and they did not know how much.
"Good old scout, Bobby!" said Shiner, clapping him on the shoulder. "Wild horses wouldn't get anything out of you, eh!"
Fred began to eye his chum askance. Thoughtless as the red-haired one usually was, he began to worry.
Then Mr. Leith called Bobby to him again.
"Will you tell me who was fighting down there at the corner?" he asked.