“No, I’m not!” retorted Melvin, taking a step forward with clenched fists, and then checking himself a moment to master the indignation that was boiling up in his throat. “But mind you, I don’t say what I won’t do if you keep this thing up. It’s not impossible that I may turn tale-bearer, but first I’ll try an easier method. Quit this thing, and quit it right off, or I’ll give you the worst thrashing you ever had,—and I’ll keep on thrashing you till you’re glad to sneak out of town.”
“Huh!” said Bosworth, contemptuously, but retreating to a safe position behind the table. “I’m not the only one that gambles,” he added significantly.
“I won’t discuss that,” retorted Melvin. “You’re the leader, and that’s enough.”
He turned toward the door. “I hope I’ve made myself clear. If you want to get hurt—badly hurt—just try another game with the little boys.”
With that, Melvin shut the door and shot downstairs as if to put the whole scene as quickly as possible behind him. He kept away from Varrell’s room in order to avoid the necessity of repeating the conversation, but with all his efforts it insisted on repeating itself over and over in his own mind, in exaggerated detail, until he was finally left with the uncomfortable impression that he had been ugly and had made savage threats and said ill-considered things, and that Bosworth had merely denied and sneered.
“It’s just as I thought last year,” he said to himself, dismally, “when Grim was so serious about the responsibility and the opportunity which the older fellows have. I felt then it was all nonsense; I know it’s so, now. The fellow who undertakes to make things better in school just renders himself unhappy and gets himself disliked.”
And then he felt again the impulse of the spirit that had carried him through so many months of discouragement to the final triumph of the great game. Unpleasant though it might be, his course was right; and having started on it, he would abide the consequences without wavering or shrinking. With this feeling uppermost, he marched off serenely to his recitation.
If he could have had a glimpse into Bosworth’s room and seen there the most frightened boy in school, he would not have wasted so much time in misgivings. His visit had had its effect.
The next morning Phil did not return promptly from his recitation. When he did come, there was a glint of pleased excitement in his very expressive eyes that aroused his room-mate’s curiosity.
“What is it, Phil,” asked Dick. “Encouragement from Sands?”