“You’re doing it, Bull,” responded Poke sweetly, “because you are the soul of generosity. Ah, we know you, you rascal!”
“We will examine the other apartments,” said Gil.
“Not for me,” growled Gary. “If I can’t have this room I don’t want to stay in this hole. I’ll go back to Sanger’s.” He began to pile his things back in his bag. Gil and Poke eyed each other dubiously.
“I—I don’t believe I’d do that,” said Gil finally. “This is a perfectly good house, Bull, and the landlady hasn’t let many of her rooms—”
“I don’t care if she hasn’t! I hope she won’t! You can make me give up this room, but you can’t make me stay here!”
Gil and Poke recognized the truth of that. Gary slammed his bag shut, seized his cap and strode wrathfully downstairs and out the door with neither a glance nor word for Mrs. Hazard or Jim.
“I’m afraid we’ve lost you a—a tenant,” said Gil to Mrs. Hazard. “We didn’t mean for him to leave the house.”
“That doesn’t matter. It was very kind of you to straighten it out about the room. We’re so much obliged to you.”
“I’m glad he’s gone,” declared Jim. “I don’t like him.”
“Jim dear,” remonstrated his mother, “you mustn’t say that. He may be a very nice boy for all we know. Has my son shown you the rooms we have to let?” she added, turning to Gil.