“Oh, thunder!” said Tom; “is that what all this row is about?”
“I suppose you’ve fallen in love, and in Junior year too!” continued Ned, wrathfully and contemptuously.
“Juniors have done such things before,” observed the Professor.
“Fallen in love!” said Tom; “as if I’d do that! Look here, old fellow, if you knew about that picture, you’d ask my pardon.”
“Well, as I don’t, I shan’t,” said Ned.
“Come, boys,” said the Professor, “this ridiculous quarrel, worthy only of a couple of little children, has gone quite far enough. Ned, I think you are petulant and absurd; but if you will go out for a few minutes, and take a short walk, Tom will unbosom himself to me, I am sure.”
“Well, I call that cheek, to turn a man out of his own room,” said Ned.
“Correct that sentence, please, Ned,” said the Professor. “You would call it cheek if it were not done by a member of the Faculty. There, be off with you. And now, Tom, tell your story.”
“I haven’t any,” said Tom; “only Ned is in one of his moods.”
“Then you are not in love,” said the Professor.