"Yes,—I left him at the tavern."
"What did the landlord say?"
"He didn't say nothing."
"Sam, you're lying!" cried Chester.
"True as I live—" began Sam.
"I know what the trouble is," said Mrs. Royden, who was very much provoked at seeing the boy's soiled clothes. "He has been fighting. And, if he has, it is your duty, father, to take him out in the shed, and give him as good a dressing as he ever had in his life."
Sam was on the point of confessing to the charge, as the best explanation of the distressed condition he was in, when the added threat exerted its natural influence on his decision.
"No, I han't fit with nobody," he said. "The boys in the village throw'd stones at me; but I didn't throw none back, nor sass 'em, nor do nothing but come as straight home as I could come."
"What is the matter, then?" demanded Mr. Royden, impatiently, taking him by the shoulder and shaking him. "Speak out! What is it?"
"Fell down," mumbled Sam.