“Welcome to my humble domicile.”
When he opened his eyes, his assailant was standing over him, and the group in the doorway held several anxious faces.
“Aren’t hurt, are you?” asked the cause of his mishap. “Give me your hand.”
Evan obeyed and was pulled to his feet. He had quite forgotten his anger. “I’m all right,” he said dully, feeling of the back of his head.
“That’s right,” said the other, with a note of relief in his voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It was the door, you see.”
“Up to your tricks again, eh, Hop?”
It was the drawling voice Evan had heard a moment before, and its owner, a tall, somewhat lanky boy, came into view around the table. “You’ve got the keenest sense of humor, Hop, I ever met with. Why didn’t you drop him out of the window?”
“Oh, you dry up, Rob. I didn’t do anything to him. The door was unlatched, and he fell against it. It’s none of your business, anyway.”
“It’s my business if I like to make it mine,” was the reply. He pulled up a chair and waved Evan toward it. “Sit down and get your breath,” he directed. Evan obeyed, his gaze studying the youth called Hop.