"Will you be good enough to repeat that remark?" he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke and holding his roll daintily poised in his fingers.
"I said that you must stop smoking cigarettes."
"Well, what did you mean?"
"I am in the habit of saying what I mean," was the quiet answer as Frank scanned the paper over which he had been pondering for some time.
Harry got upon his feet, shoved one hand into his trousers pocket, and stared in silence for some seconds at Merriwell. That stare was most expressive.
"Well, may I be jotally tiggered—I mean totally jiggered!" he finally exclaimed.
"You'll be worse than that if you keep on with those things," asserted Frank. "You'll be totally wrecked."
"This is the first time you have had the crust to deliberately tell me that I must do anything," growled Harry, resentfully. "And I feel free to say that I don't like it much. It is carrying the thing altogether too far. I have never told you that you must do this thing or you mustn't do that. I should have considered that I was beddling with something that was none of my misness—er—meddling with something that was none of my business."
Frank perceived that his roommate was quite heated, so he dropped the paper and said:
"Don't fly off the handle so quick, old man. I am speaking for your own good, and you should know it."