"You bet I don't. Ready?"
"No, I'm not ready." And Pete sat on the couch, crossed his legs and clasped his hands around one knee. He knew that Bill Marshall would not open hostilities against a defenseless opponent. But he knew also that in order to avert ultimate castigation he must make an excellent explanation. He decided to tell the exact truth.
"Stand up and be a man," ordered Bill. "We're going to settle things right now."
Pete shook his head firmly.
"Not on your life, Bill. I'm going to tell you a story first. After that——" He shrugged. "Well, after that, if you decide to lick me, you can do it. But if you ever do lick me, Bill Marshall, remember this: I'll poison your coffee some day, if it takes me the rest of my natural life. I'm not going to be a worm. Now, listen."
While Pete was making his explanations up-stairs, Mary Wayne and Aunt Caroline were below, viewing the wreck of the library.
"Part of it was done by my nephew," remarked Aunt Caroline, as she pointed toward several overturned chairs.
Mary blushed at the mention of Aunt Caroline's nephew. Her humiliation in the presence of a crowd of strange men still rankled deep.
"It was awful of him," she said indignantly.
"Not at all," said Aunt Caroline. "Not at all, my dear. But you were not here when it happened, so you cannot be expected to understand. Do you see those chairs? My nephew knocked two men clear across them." She viewed the wreckage almost affectionately. "And before he did that he thrashed a prize-fighter. Yes, my dear; thrashed him and carried him out of the house. Right in my presence he thrashed three men."