He paced up and down the floor, his huge motoring coat flapping distressfully about his legs. His face was flushed.
"If I had Morris here," he threatened, "I'd show him a few things, the pup!" Then suddenly he stopped his tramping and faced his friend. "But now that it is as it is," he demanded, "what are we going to do about it?"
"There are quite a number of very sensible things for us to do," replied Ashton-Kirk, good-humoredly. "And the first of them is to keep our tempers—the second to keep cool."
"All right," sulked Pendleton. "I know well enough that I need to do both. But what next?"
"Is your car still outside?"
"Yes."
"Good. We'll have a little use for it to-day, if you're not otherwise engaged."
"Kirk," said Pendleton, earnestly, "until this matter is settled, don't hesitate to command me. I know that I'm not generally credited with much serious purpose; but even the lightweight feels things—sometimes."
Within half an hour, Ashton-Kirk, in a perfectly fitting, carefully pressed suit of gray, tan shoes and a light colored knock-about cap, led the way down to the car. As they got in, he said:
"We'd better go to Bernstine's first. It's the nearest and on our way to the station."