Of course, Tommy Woggs got whipped—and it served him just right. His face was scratched, and one of his eyes was very red. Just then he thought he should not tell another boy that he did not know as much as he did.
The quarrel was soon made up; for after Ben Tinker had thrashed the little boaster he was satisfied, and Tommy did not dare to be cross. By this time they had to start for home.
Tommy had not got half way to his father's house before he began to feel dizzy, and to realize a very unpleasant feeling at the stomach. But he hurried home as fast as he could, which was not very fast, for he was sick in earnest now.
He staggered into the parlor, where his mother was sewing. He felt very bad then, and wished, with all his heart, that he had gone to school, and kept away from the bad boys.
"I feel sick, mother," said Tommy, as he threw himself into a chair.
"Why, Tommy! You are as pale as a ghost," exclaimed his mother, looking up from her work. "What ails you?"
"I feel sick at the stomach. I want to go to bed."