“You silly chump!” growled Tom.
“I’m awfully sorry, fellows, honest!” said Jerry. “I didn’t mean to start it. I—I just pulled something and—and it started.”
“Suppose you did!” said Tom angrily, pushing the luckless Jerry out of the seat. “Why didn’t you stop it?”
“I couldn’t! I didn’t know how! I—I tried to, Tom!”
“It’s a wonder you didn’t smash into something on Main Street,” said Willard severely.
“I thought I was going to. There was a dray coming along and I tooted the horn as hard as I knew how, but the man kept right on and the car missed the end of it by about a foot. Say, maybe I wasn’t scared!”
“I hope you were!” growled Tom. “Next time maybe you’ll let things alone. You can jolly well foot it home now.”
“I don’t mind walking back,” responded Jerry, who was now out on the sidewalk, “but I wish you wouldn’t be mad with me. I didn’t mean to start it, Tom, honest I didn’t!”
“Well, you did it, anyway. If you’d struck that dray you’d have smashed this car into kindling wood.”
“Well, I’d have smashed myself, too, wouldn’t I?” demanded Jerry, a trifle resentfully. “That ought to prove that I wasn’t doing it on purpose!”