On the table was a plate of salad. Of a sudden, Jack reached out, grasped the plate, and, with a swift flirt, flung its entire contents into the face of the man who had squirted the seltzer.
“Refuse me!” he said, as he did the trick.
The salad spattered over the joker’s face and shirt-bosom. He was a spectacle. But Ready had made a mistake. He had aroused the resentment of the sophomores, and they caught up anything in the way of food that their hands could find, and “soaked him.” It seemed that every other fellow at the table flung something at the freshman, and almost everything hit him. It was impossible for him to fling something back at them all, so he rounded up and took his pelting with a grin on his flushed face.
“Things seem to be coming my way,” he observed cheerfully.
“He’s a better man than I thought he was,” said Bart Hodge to Frank.
“I like the fellow,” acknowledged Merry. “He knows how to take a joke, and I believe he knows how to give one.”
“I don’t fancy he likes you much.”
“I suppose not. He wants revenge for the manner in which I tricked him when I got him out of his room.”
“And he swears he will have it.”
“All right. There have been so many dirty fellows trying to do me an injury that it will be a relief to have an enemy of a different class.”