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“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.

“Merrill’s a friend of mine,” went on Kitty. “Good fellow. Roommate, fellow Vest, and all that, Watson. Mustn’t thump him, you know. I’d make trouble.”

The assemblage, which had been increasing every moment, burst into a shout of laughter. “Good old Kitty!” “Don’t hurt him, Kitty!” “How are the lungs this morning, Kitty?”

“I’ll punch you, too, if you get gay, Kittson,” Watson informed him. Then he swept the laughing throng with his gaze. “And if any of you other fellows are looking for trouble——”

But at that moment the bell in the tower overhead began to clang, and Watson’s belligerent voice was drowned. The boys swarmed up the steps and into the hall, still laughing and joking. Rodney, following, found Jack Billings beside him in the press. Jack put an arm over the younger boy’s shoulders.