“Of course I won’t,” replied Gerald soberly. “You fellows did all you could, and I’m much obliged. It isn’t your fault. It was Thompson that did it.” Gerald’s face darkened. “And I’m going to—” He stopped.
“Going to what?” asked Dan suspiciously. Gerald turned a rebellious countenance toward him.
“I’m going to tell him what I think of him! That’s what!”
“Come now, look here, Gerald,” exclaimed Dan. “You can’t do that, you know! You don’t know for certain that Thompson blackballed you. And even if you did know, you wouldn’t have any right to call him to account for it. Any member of that committee has a right to vote as he likes, and—”
“I’m going to punch his head, just the same,” said Gerald doggedly.
“No, Dan’s right,” said Alf soothingly. “You can’t do that, Gerald. At any rate, you can’t fight him on that pretense. Of course, if you happened to meet him and didn’t like the way he wore his hair, or the color of his eyes, and said so—”
“Cut it out, Alf,” said Dan. “There’s no reason for scrapping and you know it. Besides, Gerald can go into Oxford—”
“I’ve told you half a dozen times,” interrupted Gerald warmly, “that I don’t want Oxford.”
“Sure?” asked Alf eagerly.