“What?” cried Phil, and a red glow suffused the quarter-back’s face as he saw the former bully of Randall speaking to his sister. “I’ll not stand for that! I don’t want Ruth to have anything to do with him!” For Langridge was not the kind of a chap any fellow would want his sister to associate with. In times past Langridge had been quite friendly with Miss Madge Tyler, but when she had discovered certain things about him, she had cut his acquaintance.
“Guess he’s trying to get in with her again,” suggested Sid.
“I’ll put a stop to that!” exclaimed Phil, grimly, as he strode forward. Then he called peremptorily: “Ruth!”
His sister looked up, caught his eye, blushed a little and, with a word to Langridge and Gerhart, moved off. Her two girl friends followed, and seemed glad of the chance to get away from the two sportily-dressed lads.
Langridge swung around, and at the sight of the three lads who, more than any others, had been instrumental in causing him to leave Randall, his face turned a dull red.
“What’s wrong, Clinton?” he called, sharply. “Do you think your sister is too good to speak to me?”
“He evidently does,” sneered Gerhart.
“Since you ask me—I do,” replied Phil, calmly, and then he turned his back on the angry Boxer Hall students and began to talk to his sister and her friends, Tom and Sid joining in the conversation, not without a little sense of embarrassment.
“Look here, if you think I’m going to stand for being insulted publicly this way, you’re mistaken, Clinton!” cried Langridge, hotly. He strode forward, while Gerhart tried in vain to hold him back.
“Oh, Phil!” cried Ruth, reaching out her hand to halt her brother, but in an instant he had gone beyond where she stood. She clasped her hands in alarm, and Madge and Mabel, with heightened color, gathered close to her.