“That’s because you have so many friends with you, my boy. With me it was different. I didn’t know a soul until Mr. Hockley and myself struck up an acquaintanceship.”
“But now it’s all right, eh?” put in Hockley, gripping Markel’s shoulder in a brotherly way.
“To be sure it’s all right,” was the quick answer. “We’ll stick together and have a good time. Perhaps young Newton will join us?”
“Thank you, but I shall stick to my chums,” answered Frank, coolly, and walked off, leaving Markel staring after him.
“The little beggar!” muttered Hockley, when Frank was out of hearing. “I’d like to wring his neck for him.”
“Why, what’s the trouble?”
“Oh, nothing in particular, but somehow he and the rest of the crowd seem to be down on me, and they are making it as unpleasant as they can at every opportunity.”
“You don’t say! It’s a wonder Professor Strong permits it.”
“They take good care to be decent when he’s around, and of course I’m no tale bearer, to go to him. But I would like to fix young Newton.”
“Is he worse than the others?”