"Ha, ha, ha!" he chuckled. "Yes, very funny indeed! Screamingly funny! I'm so glad you noticed it—one of the features of the issue!"
"Funny, you goggle-eyed idiot!" roared Cummles. "Funny! You call that—" he choked, "funny?"
"Why, of course! Don't you think—"
"Look here," interrupted Cummles, "it's like your thundering cheek to print that photo, and you're not going to sell any more of your burbling papers!"
"No?" queried Patch politely. "Well, well! It's a lovely day, isn't it?"
"Bother the day! Look here—look here—"
He was quite speechless by now, and he made a sudden dart at the pile of papers, with the evident intention of seizing the lot.
"What are you up to now, Cummles?" asked a quiet voice. It was the voice of Fane; and the bully-killer himself stepped from the interior of Study 9 across to the counter.
"I'll soon show you what I'm up to!" said Cummles, too heated to avoid a possible row with the youngster who had thrashed him early in the term.
"Well, I'm sorry to interfere in your amusing little games," returned Fane evenly. "But it happens, old tomato, that we don't want you in here. Hook it!"