"No, I think there is some of it left," came in muffled tones from the handkerchief Ikey held to his face.
Fortunately the doctor was in and dressed the wound, pronouncing it not serious, but advising his patient not to be in such a hurry to investigate strange dogs another time, or he might lose the whole of his nose instead of only a slice.
Relieved that it was no worse, and not being in the habit of making a fuss over his hurts, Ikey decided to go on to school.
Perhaps if he could have looked in the glass he would not have been so ready, for the yellow plaster did not add to his beauty.
Now all danger was over, Carl could not contain himself, but laughed and laughed till his friend's feelings were somewhat hurt.
They were late of course, and created a sensation when they entered, and the suppressed amusement among the boys became an uproar at recess. It was decidedly trying to be the object of so much school-boy wit; to hear over and over again: "Ikey, what ails your nose?"—"Can't you wear it in a sling?"—"Or put a shade over it?"—or to see on the blackboard lines adapted from Mother Goose:
"It used to be a blackbird, so the story goes,
But now it is a puppy dog that nips off his nose."
He stood it bravely till school was over, but on the way home, at sight of the girls on the corner he made a sudden dive across the street.
"Where is Ikey going?" Louise asked, in surprise, of Carl and Aleck.
"He has lost his nose," answered the latter.