“What ’s the matter, Joe?” she asked tremulously.  “What has happened?”

“Nothing,” he grunted, putting sugar on his porridge.

“But surely—­” she began.

“Please don’t bother me,” he interrupted.  “I ’m late, and I want to eat my breakfast.”

And just then Mrs. Bronson caught Bessie’s eye, and that young lady, still mystified, made haste to withdraw herself.

Joe was thankful to his mother for that, and thankful that she refrained from remarking upon his appearance.  Father had told her; that was one thing sure.  He could trust her not to worry him; it was never her way.

And, meditating in this way, he hurried through with his solitary breakfast, vaguely conscious in an uncomfortable way that his mother was fluttering anxiously about him.  Tender as she always was, he noticed that she kissed him with unusual tenderness as he started out with his books swinging at the end of a strap; and he also noticed, as he turned the corner, that she was still looking after him through the window.

But of more vital importance than that, to him, was his stiffness and soreness.  As he walked along, each step was an effort and a torment.  Severely as the reflected sunlight from the cement sidewalk hurt his bruised eye, and severely as his various wounds pained him, still more severely did he suffer from his muscles and joints.  He had never imagined such stiffness.  Each individual muscle in his whole body protested when called upon to move.  His fingers were badly swollen, and it was agony to clasp and unclasp them; while his arms were sore from wrist to elbow.  This, he said to himself, was caused by the many blows which he had warded off from his face and body.  He wondered if Brick Simpson was in similar plight, and the thought of their mutual misery made him feel a certain kinship for that redoubtable young ruffian.

When he entered the school-yard he quickly became aware that he was the center of attraction for all eyes.  The boys crowded around in an awe-stricken way, and even his classmates and those with whom he was well acquainted looked at him with a certain respect he had never seen before.

CHAPTER VI

EXAMINATION DAY

It was plain that Fred and Charley had spread the news of their descent into the Pit, and of their battle with the Simpson clan and the Fishes.  He heard the nine-o’clock bell with feelings of relief, and passed into the school, a mark for admiring glances from all the boys.  The girls, too, looked at him in a timid and fearful way—­as they might have looked at Daniel when he came out of the lions’ den, Joe thought, or at David after his battle with Goliath.  It made him uncomfortable and painfully self-conscious, this hero-worshiping, and he wished heartily that they would look in some other direction for a change.