“Do? Ha, ha! Who says I can't pay the beggar back?” grinned Jenk, hopping all over the room, and knocking into things generally.
“Hush—hush,” warned Berry, plunging after him; “here's old Fox,” which brought both boys up breathless in the middle of the floor.
“She's gone by”—a long breath of relief; “and there she goes down the stairs,” finished Berry.
“Sure?” Not daring to breathe, but clutching the racket tightly, and with one eye on Berry, Jenk cried again in a loud whisper, “Sure, Berry?”
“As if any one could mistake the flap of those slipper-heels on the stairs!” said Berry scornfully.
“Well, look out of the window,” suggested Jenk suddenly. “She'll go across the yard, maybe.”
So Berry dashed to the window, and gave one look. “There she sails with a bottle in her hand, going over to South” (the other dormitory across the yard). “Most likely Jones has the colic again. Good! Now that disposes finely of old Fox,” which brought him back to the subject in hand, the disposal of Joel's racket.
“Give me that,” he said, hurrying over to Jenkins.
“No, you don't,” said that individual; “and I must be lively before old Fox gets back.” With that, he rushed out of the room.
“If you don't give me that racket, I'll tell on you,” cried Beresford in a passion, flying after him.