“Well, I don’t take much stock in it,” said Tony, turning as if to leave. But Finch sprang forward, and put his hand on Tony’s arm.
“I take a lot of stock in it, I tell you. If you don’t do something, you won’t get it.”
Tony wheeled around, his face blazing with sudden anger, “What do you think I could do? Do you suppose I’d turn my hand to get the thing? I’d cut it off first. I haven’t asked to be Head Prefect, and I don’t intend to ask to be, you poor fool.”
Finch scarcely winced before Tony’s anger. And indeed it was gone as quickly as it came, almost before Deering had finished speaking.
“Don’t you want the place?” Finch asked, with a kind of wail of disappointment.
“Why, yes, of course, I want it,” answered Tony, “but haven’t you got sense enough to see, that it isn’t a thing a decent chap could work for, much less ask for? Did you think I’d go over to the Doctor and tell him that I think he had better appoint me and let the Gumshoe go? I shouldn’t care very much if he did go, but,—who told you about the meeting any way? I can’t see why you shouldn’t tell me. Was it a fellow?”
“No—”
“A member of the faculty? not Bill? he wouldn’t tell a thing like that.”
“No—I dunno.”