Here Socrates blew his nose sonorously, and resumed: 

“But what has happened?  On the very first day of his residence here he brutally assaults one of our numbers, my nephew, and displays the savage instincts of a barbarian.  His uncle did well to warn me that he would need salutary restraint.”

Hector, who had been amused by the solemn and impressive remarks of Socrates, looked up in surprise.  Had Allan Roscoe really traduced him in this manner, after robbing him of his inheritance, as Hector felt convinced that he had done?

“Hector Roscoe!” said Socrates, severely; “stand up, and let me hear what you have to say for yourself.”

Hector rose calmly, and faced the principal, by no means awe-stricken at the grave arraignment to which he had listened.

“I say this, Mr. Smith,” he answered, “that I did not attack your nephew till he had first attacked me.  This he did without the slightest provocation, and I defended myself, as I had a right to do.”

“It’s a lie!” muttered Jim, in a tone audible to his uncle.

“My nephew’s report is of a different character.  I am disposed to believe him.”

“I regret to say, sir, that he has made a false statement.  I will give you an account of what actually occurred.  On my return from a walk he sent a boy summoning me to his presence.  As he was not a teacher, and had no more authority over me than I over him, I declined to obey, but sent word that if he wished to see me he could come where I was.  I then walked down to the brook in Carver’s field.  He followed me, as soon as he had received my message, and, charging me with impertinence, challenged me to a fight.  Well, we had a fight; but he attacked me first.”

“I don’t know whether this account is correct or not,” said Socrates, a little nonplused by this new version of the affair.

“I am ready to accept the decision of any one of the boys,” said Hector.

“Bates,” said Socrates, who knew that this boy was an adherent of his nephew, “is this account of Roscoe’s true?”

Bates hesitated a moment.  He was still afraid of Jim, but when he thought of Hector’s prowess, he concluded that he had better tell the truth.

“Yes, sir,” he answered.

Jim Smith darted an angry and menacing glance at his failing adherent.

“Ahem!” said Socrates, looking puzzled:  “it is not quite so bad as I supposed.  I regret, however, that you have exhibited such a quarrelsome disposition.”

“I don’t think I am quarrelsome, sir,” said Hector.

“Silence, sir!  I have Mr. Allan Roscoe’s word for it.”

“It appears to me,” said Hector, undauntedly, “that your nephew is at least as quarrelsome as I am.  He forced the fight upon me.”

“Probably you wrill not be in a hurry to attack him again,” said Socrates, under the impression that Hector had got the worst of it.

Some of the boys smiled, but Socrates did not see it.