It was a clever bit of sharp practice, worthy of a shyster lawyer. Perhaps Clarence may have inherited some of the shifty trickery by which his respected father had laid the foundation to his big fortune in the wilds of Wall street.
But Jack had no desire to stand there and enter into a wordy war with Clarence, who had a ready tongue, and never cared very much where it led him.
So instead of taking up the challenge, as Clarence doubtless wanted him to, Jack simply elevated his eyebrows, and remarked:
“Oh! is that so? Well, I’m going to tell you just one thing for good and all, Clarence. Neither myself, nor any one of the club, want to set eyes on you or Joe; and if it rests with us, we’ll not run across each other all summer. But, understand me,” and his eyes flashed dangerously, “we mean to strike back, and if there’s trouble it will have to be of your seeking. You can have all you want of it. Now, that’s enough. I’m done talking.”
Clarence hardly knew what to say. He looked at the other as though tempted to blurt out the ugly things he had passing through his mind. But somehow he realized that it would not be safe pressing Jack Stormways too far. He was not the fighter Bully Joe had always been; for as a rule he managed to get some one else to carry out his battles for him. And Jack looked really dangerous just then.
“Pooh! words come cheap with some fellows,” he muttered, as he turned away. “But you’ll find they cut no figure with my partner and me. As to our keeping away from any particular spot you chumps choose to patronize, that for your silly warning,” and he derisively snapped his fingers, for he was now twenty feet away.
Jack held himself in with an effort. He felt in a humor to have given the exasperating Clarence the drubbing he deserved; but it would hardly be nice to create such a disturbance of the public peace so soon before they expected to leave home. If it seemed fated that he must teach this contemptible fellow the lesson he so richly deserved it might be wise to wait until they were far away from the town where they lived.
He was looking after the departing Clarence when he saw him take out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, for the day was warm.
Something fell to the ground, something that, even at that distance reminded Jack of a yellow telegram blank. He could just as well walk from the sporting goods store in the direction Clarence had gone as any other way. And it was his full intention to call after the other, if the paper seemed worth while.
So, in this spirit Jack bent down and secured possession of the crumpled yellow paper.