“You know what I’m talking about! Now you say ‘Good morning, sir,’ and be quick about it.”
“Oh! That’s it? Why, good morning, sir. How do you do?”
“Cut the flip talk, now!” warned the older boy angrily. “You’re too smart for this place, anyway. You need taking down, you do, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you got what you need; I wouldn’t be at all surprised.”
“Oh, let him alone, Guy,” protested another boy. “He’s new yet.”
“And he’s fresh, too,” answered Watson. “He can’t get off any of his funny pranks with me, though.”
“That’s just his breezy Western way,” laughed the boy who had spoken. “He’ll get over it.”
“You bet he will! And let me tell you something, kid, whatever your name is. You owe Doolittle for four ice-cream sodas and you’d better trot down and settle. First Formers aren’t allowed to have tick.”
“I don’t owe Doolittle a cent,” replied Rodney firmly. “And if he waits for me to pay him he will wait a powerful long time.”
“Oh, you’ll pay all right,” laughed Watson. “You thought you’d played a funny trick, didn’t you? Well, you got stung, kid.”
Rodney shrugged his shoulders. Watson, he decided, was getting tiresome.
“Don’t do that!” exclaimed the other sharply.
“Don’t shrug your shoulders at me! You pay Doolittle what you owe or I’ll pay you what _I_ owe. Understand?”
“What’s the row, Guy?” asked a quiet voice. Jack Billings suddenly appeared at Watson’s elbow.
“Hello,” grumbled the latter. “It’s none of your affair, Jack. This kid’s been getting fresh, that’s all.”
“Merrill’s in my house,” responded Jack, gravely. “What’s wrong, Merrill?”
“You’d better ask him,” answered Rodney resentfully. “He’s been nagging me for five minutes.”
“Oh, drop it,” advised another youth. “Let up, Guy, and forget it.”
“Don’t you get fresh, too, Billy,” warned Watson, turning to the speaker. Billy laughed.
“All right, Mister Grouch. Want me to say ‘Good morning, sir?’”
“I want you to mind your own business.” Then, turning to Jack, “If this kid’s in your house you’d better teach him a few things, such as respect to upper form fellows, Jack. If he opens his mouth to me again I’ll punch his fresh young head for him!”
“Then I’ll punch yours,” said a deep voice.
Watson swung around, looked, grunted, and grinned. Phineas Kittson, blinking hard behind his goggles, viewed him calmly.