He turned to the other youth.
"Are you a second, too?"
"No, sir," said the youth, hastily.
"You're a liar," said Bill, and knocked him over three chairs.
He stooped, lifted the quiet form of the Kid and tucked it under his arm. As he made for the door the servants gave way to him. Through the hall he marched solemnly, bearing the burden of his own making as though it were merely a feather pillow. Through the front door, down the stone steps and across the sidewalk he carried it. Pausing at the curb, he dropped Signor Antonio Valentino into the gutter.
As he reentered the house, his mood gravely thoughtful, two young men who had waved towels for the conqueror of the Trenton Bearcat slid out a side window and hurried around the corner to see what had become of their hero.
Bill encountered his aunt in the front hall. He regarded her doubtfully.
"I am very sorry, Aunt Caroline," he said quietly, "that you had to see this thing. I asked you to leave the library, if you remember."
Aunt Caroline clasped her hands and looked up at him.
"Why, William Marshall! It was perfectly splendid!"