Johnson not getting out of his chair, Joel went in and laid hold of his arm. "It's no use, Johnson," he said, "I can't talk to you here; it's too hot and close. And I do want a walk, so let's have it together. There, button up your coat," as they were well out in the hall, and Johnson flung his hat on his head with a reckless hand.
As they hurried down the steps they ran against a crowd of college boys. Johnson shrank up miserably against the stone fence, and tried to look as small as possible. Glances of recognition passed, and Joel spoke to right and left as the boys went by. But a few hisses, low and insistent, were all he got.
"Do let me go," begged Johnson, still hugging the fence, "you can't save me; and they hate you enough for such work."
"Come on!" roared Joel at him, and plucking him off from the fence with a determined hand.
"It's time we went for him," said one of the college boys, with a backward glance at Joel and his companion, "the Deacon is absolutely insulting. The idea of his speaking to us."
"Let's have it over to-night," said another. "What do you say?" to the others.
"Where's Davina?" asked another.
"Oh, Pink-and-White is out dining," said the first voice. "My pretty little girl is safe at the Parrotts'."
"Sure?"
"As a gun. Met him with a posy in his button-hole, and sweet as a little bud himself, and he told me so."