“The Erie Railroad goes there,” said Spiff.
“Well, you don’t want to be like the Erie Railroad, do you?” said Brent. “Do they have many like you in Jersey City?”
“Sure, I licked two of ’em,” said Spiff.
“Well, now,” said Tom, “let’s forget Jersey City and talk of something pleasant. You’re on the outs with the Scouts up yonder, hey? So you’re running away. They put you to washing dishes and you quit. Then you want me to believe that you licked two fellows in Jersey City. Why, you couldn’t even lick a fellow in Hoboken, you couldn’t. You’re a quitter.—Here, have some more beans.”
“Who you calling a quitter?”
“You. You’ve got a grouch about the⸺”
“Oh su-u-u-re,” the boy sneered. “You’re like the scoutmaster, you are.”
“Those are harsh words,” said Brent.
“You got to be a teacher’s pet up there,” said Spiff.
“Did they ever call you fresh?” Tom queried sociably.