“Piffle!” scoffed Nick. “You were just dying to get into it yourself last night, you old hypocrite!”
“I did get into it,” said Guy grimly. “And I got this for my pains.” He laid a finger on his bruise. “Pop was the one who put ’em to rights. Pop went into it like a whirlwind. Thump! Down goes a lower! Bang! Down goes an upper! Great stuff, Pop!”
“You fellows could have fought all night,” replied Pop calmly, “for all I cared, only I thought it would be rather a silly piece of business for half of you to get nabbed and put on pro. To come right down to hunks, though, it was a pretty rank piece of business for grown kids to pummel each other for no reason at all. You upper middlers ought to be proud of it.”
“Well, we didn’t start it,” said Nick aggrievedly. “One of those chaps punched one of us and so we punched back.”
“It’s always the other fellow who starts things, I notice. If you and Bert and Kinley and a few more had been caught at it a fat chance the team would have had!”
“That’s so,” agreed Guy. “I understand that Bonner was extremely eloquent this afternoon.”
“He flayed us,” said Bert grimly. “He has a nasty tongue sometimes.”
“It struck me he was mighty easy with you,” said Pop unfeelingly. “When you’re on the School Team, Bert, you’re supposed to behave yourself and not act like a kid.”
“Oh, chuck it, Pop,” returned Bert shortly. “I’ve been lectured enough. You’re as cheerful as a raven.”