"I guess you'd blush," growled Don, "if it happened to you!"
"I dare say, but it never will. I'll never have the whole school get up on their feet and cheer me like mad for three solid minutes! And I'll never have Josh shake my hand off and beam at me and tell me I'm a credit to the school! Such beautiful things are not for poor little Tim!"
Don sighed. "Well, it's over with, anyway."
"Over with, nothing! It won't be over with as long as you stay here, Donald. A hero you are and a hero you remain, old chap. And—and I'm mighty proud of you, you old humbug! Telling us you didn't do anything but help lug folks to the relief train, or something!"
"I didn't say that," replied Don defensively.
"You let us think it. Gee, if I'd done anything like that I'd have put it in the papers!" Tim chuckled and then went on seriously. "You don't need to worry about the fellows thinking you a quitter any more, do you? I guess Proctor settled that once and for all, Don. And suppose you'd run away home the other night. This wouldn't have happened and fellows would have said you had a yellow streak. I guess it was a mighty lucky thing you have little Tim to look after you, dearie!"
"I'm glad I didn't," said Don earnestly. "I'd have made a worse mess of it, shouldn't I? I—I'm sorry you got that punch, though, Timmy."
"Forget it! It was worth it! Being the room-mate of a hero atones for everything you ever did to me, Donald. I'm that proud——"
But Tim didn't finish, for Don started around the table for him.