alled to mother. "Helen!" And
mother came in, with a piece of white sewing in her hands.

"Helen," said Papa Jack, "it's a case of bullying. The boy promised you
not to fight, and he didn't. It's a mistake, mother. He's been set upon
by some young bully, and couldn't defend himself because of his
promise."

Mother looked at Bob; there was distress in her eyes, but something else
came into them, too.

"It's only the beginning, dear--the beginning of battles," said Papa
Jack, and he put his other hand on mother's.

"Bob," he said, "mother doesn't mean you're not to defend yourself.
Understand? By fighting, mother only means beginning fights, picking
fights, provoking other boys to fight. We _have_ to defend ourselves. It
isn't right to pick a fight; that's what mother means."

Bob saw tears come into his mother's eyes. Papa Jack saw them, too.

"There's only one way among boys, Helen dear. The bullies must be
fought, you know. Our boy's got to be a boy's boy if he's to be a man's
man by-and-by."

Suddenly mother bent over and kissed Bob, and held him, with her arms
thrust under and about him--held him hard.

"The only thing, Bob, is to be a man always. Be square and white. Do the
right thing. I can't tell you what it will be every time; neither can
anybody else: but you your own self will know. It may be right even to
fight sometimes, for yourself and for others who are bullied; but every
boy knows for himself when it's right and when it's wrong. If he does as
he _knows_, he'll do right."

It was a quiet lunch that day. Father and mother talked little and the
meal was quickly over. Bob hardly knew what he himself ate or did or
thought. There was a strange excitement in his heart and in his head, a
feeling that he could not define. It was not that he was going back to
school after dinner. It was not that he would probably meet those boys
again, nor that he would sooner or later have to face again that Curly
Davis. Neither was it that, when he did face Curly Davis, he meant
to--yes, to fight him. No, it was none of these things, though his heart
did beat the faster as he thought of them. It was something else; it was
something about what his father had said, not so much his words, but the
way he had said "a man's man" and "we must defend ourselves"--something
that thrilled him, made him proud and humble, all at once. Someway,
father seemed to have taken a new attitude toward him, and in that
change even Bob seeme