“What do you mean? you low hound!” screamed Herbert, as he rose from the floor.
“I think you can tell, without any explanation,” said Andy, calmly.
Herbert looked as if he would like to annihilate the young janitor, but there was something in the strong grasp which he had just felt which convinced him that Andy was stronger than himself, and he hesitated.
“Do you know that my father is one of the trustees of the academy?” he shouted, shaking his fist. “I’ll get you discharged from your place.”
“You can do what you like,” answered Andy, “but you’d better get out of the way, for I’m going to sweep. I’ll let you off from sweeping up, as you have had a lesson already.”
“You’ll let me off!” exclaimed Herbert, passionately. “You—a servant—give me a lesson! You don’t know your place, you young beggar!”
“No more talk like that, Herbert Ross, for I won’t stand it!” said Andy, firmly.
“I’ll call you what I please!” retorted Herbert.
“If you call me another name, I’ll lay you down in the dirt again!” said Andy.
Just then, at the open door, appeared the tall, dignified figure of Dr. Euclid, who was in time to hear the last words spoken.