A good wash at the pump, and a cold key applied to my eye, refreshed me amazingly. Escorted by two or three of the schoolfellows, I walked home through the pleasant autumn twilight, battered but triumphant. As I went along, my cap cocked on one side to keep the chilly air from my eye, I felt that I was not only following my nose, but following it so closely, that I was in some danger of treading on it. I seemed to have nose enough for the whole party. My left cheek, also, was puffed out like a dumpling. I couldn't help saying to myself, “If this is victory, how about that other fellow?” “Tom,” said Harry Blake, hesitating. “Well?” “Did you see Mr. Grimshaw looking out of the recitation-room window just as we left the yard?” “No was he, though?” “I am sure of it.” “Then he must have seen all the row.” “Shouldn't wonder.” “No, he didn't,” broke in Adams, “or he would have stopped it short metre; but I guess be saw you pitching into the pump which you did uncommonly strong--and of course be smelt mischief directly.” “Well, it can't be helped now,” I reflected. “--As the monkey said when he fell out of the cocoanut tree,” added Charley Marden, trying to make me laugh. It was early candle-light when we reached the house. Miss Abigail, opening the front door, started back at my hilarious appearance. I tried to smile upon her sweetly, but the smile, rippling over my swollen cheek, and dying away like a spent wave on my nose, produced an expression of which Miss Abigail declared she had never seen the like excepting on the face of a Chinese idol. She hustled me unceremoniously into the presence of my grandfather in the sitting-room. Captain Nutter, as the recognized professional warrior of our family, could not consistently take me to task for fighting Conway; nor was he disposed to do so; for the Captain was well aware of the long-continued provocation I had endured. “Ah, you rascal!” cried the old gentleman, after hearing my story. “Just like me when I was young--always in one kind of trouble or another. I believe it runs in the family.” “I think,” said Miss Abigail, without the faintest expression on her countenance, “that a table-spoonful of hot-dro--” The Captain interrupted Miss Abigail peremptorily, directing her to make a shade out of cardboard and black silk to tie over my eye. Miss Abigail must have been possessed with the idea that I had taken up pugilism as a profession, for she turned out no fewer than six of these blinders. “They'll be handy to have in the house,” says Miss Abigail, grimly.