“I didn’t push you!” exclaimed Tom. “It was an accident that you jostled against me.”
“I didn’t jostle against you. You deliberately leaned against me to save yourself from falling.”
“I did not! And if you——”
“You brought it on yourself, Langridge,” interrupted Phil. “You got fresh and hit the sofa, and that made you lose your balance. It’s your own fault.”
“You mind your business! When I want you to speak I’ll address my remarks to you. I’m talking to Parsons now, and I tell him——”
“You needn’t take the trouble to tell me anything,” declared Tom. “I don’t want to hear you. I’ve told you it was an accident, and if you insist that it was done purposely I have only to say that you are intimating that I am not telling the truth. In that case there can be but one thing to do, and I’ll do it as soon as I’ve gotten this sofa into our room.”
There was an obvious meaning in Tom’s words, and Langridge had no trouble in fathoming it. He did not care to come to a personal encounter with Tom.
“Well, if you fellows hadn’t been moving that measly old sofa in, this would never have happened,” growled Langridge as he limped away. “Come on, Gerhart. We’ll find more congenial company.”
“I guess I’ll wait until they get the sofa out of the way,” remarked the new chum Langridge appeared to have picked up.
Tom, Sid and Phil resumed their journey, and the old piece of furniture was carried to the upper hall. The stairs were clear, and Gerhart descended. As he passed Tom he looked at him with something of a sneer on his face, and remarked: