I trust my readers are not thirsting for a description of a fight, because in that case they will be disappointed. In the midst of the hubbub the bell sounded, and the boys went to their places, Simpson leading his friend along, and making a great show of the blood-stained handkerchief. The injured boy, who was in the same class as Jim and Dick, at once attracted the attention of Mr. Laythorne, who asked what had happened. "If you please, sir," said Braithwaite, "I was standing just inside the gate when Hartland came along and hit me on the nose." "Is this correct, Hartland?" "He called me names, so I hit him, sir," answered Jim sulkily. "And I’ll hit him again, too, if he cheeks me." "I am sorry to hear you talk in that way," said the young master calmly. "Go to your place now, and stay behind during the interval.—Boden, take that boy to the lavatory." "Yes, sir," responded the Angel cheerfully, taking Braithwaite, not too tenderly, by the arm. Everything went wrong that morning with Jim. He made the most stupid mistakes in class, and behaved so badly that Mr. Laythorne felt sorely tempted to send him to the head-master. He was kept in during the interval, and again at noon, and accordingly looked on himself as a martyr. When he at last got out, the playground was empty except for Dick, who would never have dreamed of going without his chum. "Get your face straight, old man," cried he; "it’s as long as a fiddle. I wish I had a looking-glass, so that you could see yourself. Think of the milkmen down your way! You’ll turn all their milk sour!" Jim stalked across the playground without deigning to reply. "Whew!" whistled the Angel; "you ought to be marked _dangerous_, like a magazine. No wonder Laythorne was afraid to keep you inside any longer. But I say, Jim, that was a lovely tap you gave Braithwaite. He asked me if I thought his nose was broken." "I’ll break his head next time!" said Jim savagely. The Angel clapped him on the back. "There’s nothing like making a good job of a thing while you’re at it," he said. "Going up the lane? All right. I’ll call for you after dinner. And take that frown off your face, or you’ll frighten Susie into a fit." Mrs. Hartland saw there was something the matter with the boy, but happily she did not worry him about it, and by the time Dick called he was almost himself again. "Oh, I forgot to tell you, mother," he said as he was going out, "you needn’t wait tea for me. I’m going to have mine at the shop. It will save time, Mr. Broad says." "Have you to work all the evening, Jim?" asked Dick as they went down the street. "No, I shall be home by eight." "That doesn’t leave you much time." "Oh, I shall manage. Laythorne is taking all the subjects at school, and I can get in at least two hours extra every day." As it happened, Jim found in a short time that he was reckoning without his book. At the close of afternoon school Jim stepped up to the master’s desk.