As Chip remarked, it was a warm day for that time of year, and no mistake. Bully Carson was heated by his walk from the village, and he was perspiring profusely. He pulled out a handkerchief of purple silk with red bars, and mopped at his face, eying Merry furtively. Seeming to conclude that he was safe for the present, he regained his composure slowly.
Chip knew that Carson was a thorough bully and coward. In fact, he had himself presented Bully with that black eye, when the other had attempted to “beat him up” in Carsonville the previous Saturday. He scanned Bully’s attire with a humorous twinkle in his eyes.
“You ought to be more careful, Bully,” he remarked, with mock solicitude. “If you were seen on the Fardale streets in those duds, you’d be in danger of arrest.”
“Huh? What for?” Bully growled suspiciously. He looked down at himself.
“For disturbing the peace,” said Chip, with a laugh, dropping on the window seat.
“Think you’re cussed smart, don’t you?”
“Not a bit of it,” Chip gravely assured him. He found Bully capital amusement. “I only wonder at your nerve in coming here!”
“You should worry,” retorted Bully, with a scowl. “Ain’t I got a right to visit my cousin?”
“Sure. Only, if you had another cousin in jail, you’d have a better right to visit him, seems to me.”
“Huh?” Carson turned pale and mopped at his face again. “What you goin’ to do about it?”