“I was sick of the way I was treated,” answered the other sharply. “I haven’t got anything against you, Toby. It wasn’t your fault, I guess. You tried to get it away from me, and you had a right to. That’s nothing. But that fool Loring didn’t have any right to yank me out of there without saying anything, did he? I guess I’d been playing pretty good hockey, hadn’t I? How would you have felt about it if they’d treated you like that?”
“I—I suppose I shouldn’t have liked it,” murmured Toby uncomfortably, embarrassedly conscious of Arnold’s presence.
“I’ll bet you wouldn’t! That’s no way to treat fellows. I’ve done good work all winter for them, played the best I knew how, and that’s what I get for it! They just drop me without a word! Crowell says that Loring’s the whole push now and that he didn’t have anything to do with it. He’s afraid I’ll make trouble for him, I guess. And maybe I will, too.”
“I dare say he will put you back again to-morrow,” ventured Toby not very truthfully.
“Yes, he will—not! I wouldn’t go back! I’m through! Arn’s been talking about duty to the school and all that rot. I’ll bet he wouldn’t think so much about that if they’d dropped him like a hot potato!”
Toby tried to edge past. “I’m sorry, Frank,” he murmured. “Of course, I wanted the place and tried for it, but—”
Arnold sniffed and spoke for the first time. “Don’t be a hypocrite,” he sneered. “You’re just awfully sorry, aren’t you? All cut up about it, I guess!”
“I am sorry,” declared Toby stoutly. “It isn’t my fault if Mr. Loring—”
“That’s a coward’s trick, to hide behind some one else,” broke in Arnold.
“Meaning that I’m a coward?” demanded Toby, hotly.