“You take a lot of liberties with other people’s property!” commented Peck, savagely. “You seem used to moving. Your family must be in the habit of changing tenements whenever rent-day comes round.”
At this slash Sam laughed outright. His family had inhabited the same house for four generations. It was one of the recognized ornaments of the city, pointed out to every stranger. “The last time we moved was in 1790,” he said quietly.
“What!”
“And I naturally don’t remember much about it. My great-grandfather did the moving.”
Peck stared for a few silent seconds. “Well, you’re certainly making up for your ancestors’ omissions. Perhaps they hadn’t anything to move. I hope you aren’t going to keep this thing up all through the year.”
“You needn’t worry. I shan’t touch your things again. I’ve just put you back where I found you. We’re square now.”
“I didn’t ask you to do it,” persisted Peck, ill-humoredly.
“I know you didn’t, but I came to the conclusion that I oughtn’t to have moved you in the beginning, so I tried to make it good. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”
“Oh, I don’t care,” replied Peck, with indifference, going to transfer his clothes to the empty closet.
Archer strode over to Alumni to luncheon, disappointed in the outcome of his efforts to make amends for his act of thoughtlessness. He felt that he had come as near an apology as he could, without actually falling on his knees and demanding forgiveness with tears. If Peck was still sore, he might go hang! His favor wasn’t worth having.