“I don’t see it. Jack would naturally be angry when spoken to in that tone. Herring is a bully and no gentleman, as Jack indicated.”
“That’s true enough, but Jack turned red and then white and was evidently under a considerable agitation. There is some mystery, take my word for it.”
“Well, suppose there is?” rejoined Arthur. “It is certainly no business of ours and I am not going to meddle with it.”
“Well, neither am I,” with a little snap, “but I can have my opinion, can’t I?”
“Certainly,” and there was nothing more said, the boys being good friends and though having little differences at times, never quarreled.
While Arthur and Harry were having this conversation Herring said angrily to Merritt:
“What did you want to say that for? My father is as good as yours. I’ll give it to Sheldon for talking back to me.”
“You started it,” growled Merritt. “You’re always picking on the new fellows.”
“So are you,” snapped Herring. “You’re a regular bully. Never mind, though. There is something crooked about Sheldon or his family and I’m going to find it. I don’t associate with tramp berry pickers and the rest of the boys won’t when I find out things.”
“Dick Percival goes with him,” muttered Merritt, pointing to where the rich man’s son and Jack Sheldon were walking together arm in arm. “Percival is a swell and his father is richer than yours and a lot more——”