"No fighting, I hope?"
"Well, no; but I tell you what, doctor, the rest of the boys'll let that nigger alone. His friends can box."
"Ah, yes! I understand. They stood by him. Wouldn't see him imposed upon."
"They just wouldn't. They're prime little chaps. The other boys were bigger'n they are. I'd ha' helped 'em, but they didn't need any help."
"No. Yes,—I see. It won't do to have any fighting, but then! H'm! They stood right by him! Good-afternoon, Mr. Pulsifer."
"Good-afternoon, Dr. Brandegee. There, if he hasn't made me lose a hit! I'd ha' fetched it. But I'm glad I had a chance to set him right about that scrimmage. I thought those three chaps were kind o' stuck up, but everybody'll know where to place 'em now."
There was nothing like anger, or even disapproval, on Dr. Brandegee's face when he walked away; but he was muttering,—
"Know how to box, do they? I thought I saw something like it. They're a fine lot of young fellows. I must keep my eye on them. They'll be MEN one of these days!"
They were only boys yet, however; and they were hardly arrived in front of the kitchen-door before they began to make the proposed division of the fish.
Mrs. Myers came to meet Dick, and receive an account of his errand.