“Both eyes shut before or after the scrap?” asked Gerald innocently.
“That’ll be about all from you, young Mr. Pennimore,” replied Alf. “I’m disappointed in you. I thought you were going to square yourself with Thompson as soon as you could use your hands a bit. What’s the trouble? Have you two kissed and made up?”
“I just don’t take any notice of him any more,” replied Gerald calmly. “If I quarreled with him now, he’d think it was because he kept me out of Cambridge.”
“I suppose he did do it?” inquired Tom.
“Of course,” Alf answered. “Who else was there? But you’re right, Gerald; you can’t quarrel with him for that.”
“It isn’t absolutely necessary for Gerald to quarrel with Thompson about anything, is it?” asked Dan idly.
“N-no, I suppose not,” Alf laughed. “Only it seems such a waste of—of ability! Here’s Gerald a perfectly good boxer and nothing doing.”
“I’ve got the punching-bag,” said Gerald. “I’ve been giving that some awful jolts, Alf.”
“Serves it right. Say, Tom, do you remember the mean trick the fellows put up on Tubby Jones last year? Did Tubby ever tell you about that, Dan? I guess he wouldn’t, though; Tubby never relished jokes on himself much.”
“I don’t remember,” said Tom. “Tubby had so many jokes played on him. What was this one, Alf?”