"Tell him as we don't want his kind around here or—"
"Spike, did you bring in the butter?" enquired Ravenslee, serenely unconscious of M'Ginnis.
"Yes, here it is, Geoff—but say—"
"It doesn't feel much," said Ravenslee, weighing the package in his hand.
"It's half a pound. But say, here's Bud; he says you're to—"
"My, Spike, I'll trouble you for the butter-dish—thanks!" and turning away, Ravenslee busied himself at the table, whistling softly the while.
"But, Geoff, this is Bud!" cried the lad, glancing from one to the other in an agony of suspense. "Oh, don' ye know dis is Bud M'Ginnis?"
"Ah, still here, is he?" said Ravenslee, without looking round.
"See here, Kid," growled M'Ginnis, "you tell your—friend t' clear out an' t' do it real quick, see? You tell him if he ain't out in two minutes, I'll run him out meself—"
"Spike, this butter is nearly oil."