"What's the row, anyway?" The boys, not to be balked out of all the fun, seeing that Bony would not fight, crowded around him. "What's upset you, Bony?"
"Enough to disturb any one," he cried, glad to vent injured feelings on something. "A common country fellow just now spoke to me on the long path; fancy that, will you? I never saw him in my life, and he took it upon himself to give me advice about Pip."
"What?" cried ever so many of the boys.
"Yes, just fancy. And there I had just come from seeing Mr. King," here Bony threw out his chest again and looked big. "I'd had a long talk with him; his father knew my father very well, very well indeed, and he wants me to meet Ben Pepper that he brought here yesterday," and Bony paused to see the effect on his auditors.
"Well, you've met him," said one boy. Some of the others gave a long whistle.
"No such thing," retorted Bony. "I wasn't with your crowd when he got here last night," he added superciliously. "This is quite different,—quite in the social way,—and his grandfather is going to introduce us."
"You won't need any introduction," said Tim, with a chuckle. "Hush up, boys," for the room was in an uproar of cat-calls and peals of laughter.
"Yes, I will, too," said Bony, in a superior way, "for I never speak unless properly introduced. My set never does."
"Well, you've broken your rule for once then," said Tim, in a hush now, every boy holding himself in check to lose no word, "for that country lout with Pip was Ben Pepper."
Bony sat down on the nearest desk, his chest sank in, and he groped feebly with his hands, mumbling something—what, the boys couldn't have told, even if the babel that now set up around him had been less. And Mr. Sterrett coming in, and the other boys rushing out, he was presently asked if he were ill.