won't let a fellow in the crowd play with you, or even speak to you."
"See here, Jed Burr, you drop that," cried Bob, stepping into view and pulling Ned away from the grasp of the bully.
"Hello! sneaking around, are you?"
"I don't have to sneak," replied Bob.
"Mind your own business."
"I'm minding it fine when I save a little fellow from your meanness."
"Say, I'll lick you," cried Jed, doubling up his fists.
Bob said nothing. He just looked the bully squarely in the eye.
"Some time. You see if I don't," added Jed.
Bob did not move. Jed edged away.
"I'll give it to you good and hard," scowled Jed, and went clear away.
"See here, Ned," said Bob, going up to the weeping boy, and placing his hand on his shoulder in a kindly way.
"Leave me alone," sniffled the little fellow. "Jed has spoiled everything. I'll stay away from school. I'll play hookey."
Just then the school bell rang. Bob had to let the little fellow go his own way. There was a special programme for that morning, and Bob's mind was full of it. This was the public reading of a composition on "Ceylon." A prize was to be given for the best piece.
On these occasions at times several visitors came to the school. As he entered. Bob noticed a number of ladies whom he knew. Seated in a chair near the platform was a young man smartly dressed, who wore a single eye-glass.
"He's the English artist staying at Ned Thomas's house," Frank whispered to Bob.
Several scholars read their pieces. Bob among the number.
