“You tried to make a liar out of me this afternoon, didn’t you?”
Thatcher noted then that it was Gould, with a Sophomore companion known as Birdie Pell. He knew too from the odor on the breath of Gould where they had been and why. Both had been “out of bounds” to steal an after dinner cigarette, a serious offense at Pennington and a particularly serious offense in the case of Gould who was a basketball and baseball man.
Thatcher stopped in his tracks and looked Gould squarely in the eyes. His wrath was rising steadily but he knew that he had it well within control.
“Gould, I don’t have to try to make a liar out of you. You are naturally one of that breed. As for dirty playing, there isn’t anything dirtier ever put on a basketball suit that has come to my notice.”
Stung by this retort, and angry at being ridiculed in front of Pell, Gould lost his temper completely.
“What’s that? You eat those words, Kid, or I’ll jam ’em down your throat.”
He stepped forward pugnaciously and shook his clenched fist under Thatcher’s nose.
Still surprisingly calm, Thatcher maintained his position and calmly pushing Gould’s hand aside, said coldly:
“Don’t wave that dirty thing in front of me that way. Put it where it belongs. As for making me eat anything, you aren’t big enough or man enough to do it.”