"I—I just had to!" continued Bert. "And I beat him, anyhow, mother."
Mrs. Bobbsey cried a little, and then she made the best of it, and bathed Bert's cut lip and bruised forehead. She told his father about it, too, and Mr. Bobbsey, after hearing the account, asked:
"Who won?"
"Well, Bert says he did?"
"Um. Well, I've no doubt but what he did. He's getting quite strong."
"Oh, Richard!" exclaimed Mrs. Bobbsey, in dismay.
"Well, boys will—er—have their little troubles," said her husband.
"I'm sorry Bert had to fight, but I'm glad he wasn't a coward.
But he mustn't fight any more."
Then Mr. Bobbsey sat down to read the evening paper.
The weather was getting cooler. Several nights there had been heavy frosts, and for some time the papers had been saying that it was going to snow, but the white flakes did not sift down from the sky.
Thanksgiving was approaching. It was the end of the Fall term of school, and there were to be examinations to see who would pass into the next higher classes for the Winter season.