“Can I help you?” asked Lindsay, with mock politeness. The contribution trick still rankled in his memory.
“Yes, go and drown those two Pecks!” growled the irate Tompkins, as he freed one rubber from the floor and attacked another. “They’ve screwed down the whole lot. I’d like to wear out every blessed rubber on their backs!”
“How do you know they did it?” asked Lindsay, much interested.
“Because I saw one as I came up,” said Planter, eagerly. “I was late to the meeting and almost ran over one of them right near the door.”
“Which one?”
“Yes, which!” grumbled Tompkins, “the one with the mole on his shoulder-blade or the one without? Of course he doesn’t know which. They’re as much alike as two leaves on a tree. The only thing to do is to lynch them both.”
Lindsay returned to the Pecks’ room, where the twins were waiting in gleeful suspense.
“Who are they, anyway?” asked Wolcott.
“The editors of the Literary Monthly,” answered Donald, pompously, “meeting for the first time with the new member, Mr. Tompkins.”
“I wish they’d print their parting remarks on the rubber question,” chuckled Duncan. “I guess ’twould be the last number of the Lit that board would publish.”