Anthony Fry came to life and, with a bound, was between them.
"Let this thing stop right here, Johnson!" he said ringingly. "No more of it—do you understand? No more!"
"No more, your eye!" panted Johnson Boller. "Get out of the way before I knock you out!"
"Johnson, I refuse to permit you——" Anthony cried, and with both lean hands pushed back on Mr. Boller's heaving chest.
"Look here, Anthony," said Johnson Boller, with plainly forced calm; "when a dirty little guttersnipe like that hits me a foul blow, something happens!"
"There wasn't anything foul about that blow," David said calmly. "That was a nice clean jab, and nothing like the one you gave me without warning and while I was sitting down."
"That's enough, David!" Anthony said.
"He started it," David submitted.
Anthony pushed on. Johnson Boller was against the bureau now—had been there for some seconds, indeed—and his expression was changing. Young David, to be sure, had rendered him slightly ridiculous for a bit, but getting mad about it was not likely to help in eliminating David.
"It's all right, Anthony," Mr. Boller said with a sudden grim smile. "Don't shove me through the wall. I won't hurt the kid."