But somehow I didn't quite succeed.

He smiled pleasantly as he just touched my pulse, and gave a single glance at my protruded tongue.
"There's nothing wrong with him, except a black eye or so.

Fighting, I suppose.

Boys will be boys.

Send him to bed early to-night, Mrs Nash, and he'll be all right in the morning." "But what about--about the smallpox ?" I inquired, forgetting that during the last speech I had been lying with my eyes closed, apparently unconscious.
The doctor laughed noisily, and Mrs Nash joined in the chorus.
"We'll see about him when we catch him, my young fighting-cock," replied he, and then went.
Then I hadn't really got it! A nice fool I had made of myself! Larkins had, of course, announced it to all the lodgers at Mrs Nash's, to my employers and fellow-clerks, and here was I all the while as right as a trivet, with nothing but a bruised face and an empty stomach afflicting me.