hing
else was stirring in his heart--something which might not, perhaps, be
wholly unexpected, under such circumstances, to stir in the heart of a
boy whose grandfather had carried a musket at Gettysburg and whose
father had worn khaki at San Juan. He wondered if his mother could have
known.

[Illustration: "A RING OF BOYS--EXCITED, EAGER, YELLING"]

But Bob's fists only clinched; they did not strike. All the sturdy
little muscles in his small body stiffened, and he stood with head up
and eyes blazing, but he did not strike. And then the school-bell
suddenly began to ring, and the group about him broke away; and Curly
Davis started off, shouting back something about fixing _him_ after
school, and--he was alone.

Bob stood still. He realized that the last bell for school had rung. He
knew that he should have gone in with the others. That was what he had
been sent to school for, certainly. But he stood still.

The tears had dried upon his face, and so had the thin little line of
red on his chin. His lip was swelling, and felt as if a hazelnut or a
big bean had been pushed up under it and were sticking to and stinging
the skin. He stooped and picked up his school-bag and lunch-box, stood
still again for a moment, and then walked away. He was not going to
school, and, naturally, as there was nowhere else to go, he was going
home.

But a great, heavy weight seemed to have settled down upon his breast
and pressed in upon it, and it was hard to breathe. His thoughts were
still confused, but he was wondering--wondering. Why was it? Why had
they treated him so? Why had they singled him out to attack him? Why had
that boy with the curly hair struck him? Why had the others laughed?
Didn't they like him? Didn't any one like him? Why, what had he done?
His heart swelled with sudden misery and wretchedness. Why was such an
unkind thing permitted in the world? And then again returned that
something which stirred inside him, something hot and hard, which made
his cheeks and eyes burn and his fingers clinch once more. And then
again the question, "Could mother have known?"

Mrs. McAllister saw him coming a block away, and she ran down to the
gate to meet him as he trudged in. Bob looked up into his mother's face.
The quick concern in her eyes, as she saw the battered little lip and
the stained chin, came nearer to making him sob than Curly's blow had
done; but, though the tears would well up and his throat felt very
tight, he on