“Don’t be nasty, Tubby,” answered Dan good-naturedly. “What did you think of Gerald?”
“Got so you call him that, have you? I suppose you call his father Uncle John, don’t you? Is he going to make you a present of a steamship line or two to play with?”
“Tubby, your sarcasm isn’t delicate enough to amuse me. Cut it out!”
“Oh, I dare say! Getting kind of particular these days, aren’t you? Sort of finicky and—and fastidious. I’ll bet you’ll be wearing lemon-colored gloves to church to-morrow!”
“Now, look here, Tubby,” said Dan warmly. “That’s as much of your ill-temper as I’m going to stand. If you can’t talk decently keep still until you can. If you don’t you and I’ll get into trouble.”
As physical combat was something that Tubby had no love for, he subsided promptly. He kept up an angry muttering for some minutes, but he maintained all the time a careful eye on Dan who was getting ready for dinner. After awhile he summoned sufficient courage to say defiantly:
“You might as well keep that little Pennimore chump out of this room while I’m in it, for I tell you right now, Dan Vinton, that he makes me sick and I don’t intend to be sweet to him and lick his shoes even if he is as rich as all get-out!”
“Tubby,” replied Dan very politely, “I never thought for a moment that you could be sweet to anyone.”
“Is that so?” Tubby growled. “You think you’re smart, don’t you? That little chump isn’t any better than I am, even if his father has money. So has mine, for that matter. How did old John T. make his money, anyhow? By grinding it out of the poor, that’s how! He’s just a great big trust; owns all the steamships and puts the prices up, and—”
“Well, don’t let you and I worry about it,” said Dan. “We haven’t got to buy any of his steamships. So the price doesn’t matter to us, Tubby.”