"I have a complaint to make against your son Hamilton. To-day while I was on my way through the streets of our town I was assailed in the fashion of a ruffian by your son, who threw snowballs at me, knocking me down and ruining my silk hat and a rare volume of history I was carrying. I demand that your son apologize to me for his actions or I shall make a complaint to the authorities."
"Hamilton, what does this mean?" demanded Mr. Spink, after perusing the communication several times.
"I don't know," answered the undutiful offspring brazenly.
"Did you snowball Mr. Felps?"
"No. I didn't snowball anybody."
"He says you did."
"He must be mistaken."
"It is mighty queer," muttered Mr. Spink. "I will look into this to-morrow."
"The old Harry take Felps anyway," muttered Ham to himself. "How did he learn I threw that snowball? That Dodge crowd must have told him."
It was Mammy Shrader's neighbor, Samuel O'Brien, who called upon Mr.
Dudder.