Shadow landed on the shoulders of Nat Poole, and both went down and rolled over. In a spirit of play some of the students near by covered the rolling pair with shavings and straw. Shadow took this in good part and merely laughed as he arose, but the money-lender’s son was angry.
“Hi, who threw those dirty shavings all over me?” he bawled. “I don’t like it.”
“Don’t mind a little bath like that, Nat!” called one of the students.
“But I do mind it. The shavings are full of dirt, and so is the straw. The dirt is all over me.” 104
“Never mind, you can have a free bath, Nat,” said another.
“I’ll lend you a cake of soap,” added a third.
“I don’t want any of your soap!” growled the money-lender’s son. “Say, the whole crowd of you make me sick!” he added, and walked off, in great disgust.
“Phew! but he’s touchy,” was the comment of one of the students. “I guess he thinks he’s better than the rest of us.”
“Let’s give him another dose,” came the suggestion, from the rear of the crowd.
“Shavings?”