Small shuddered. Then they parted to seek their own rooms.
“Well, where have you been?” growled Ben as Bert entered Number 2. “I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour.”
“Oh, just around,” replied Bert vaguely.
“Well, find my slippers for me.”
“Oh, no,” answered Bert. “We’re not doing that any more. It’s out of fashion.”
Ben glared fearsomely. “We’ll see whether it’s out of fashion, my fresh young kid!” He arose and started around the table after Bert. Bert held his ground, although I’m not pretending that he was quite easy of mind.
“You touch me, Holden,” he said evenly, “and I’ll kick your shins. I’ve given you fair warning.”
Then Ben seized him, Bert kicked him and there was a very pretty little fracas for a minute or two, from which Bert emerged somewhat breathless and unscathed and Ben with one painful contusion on his left shin. For Ben, in spite of his bullying proclivities, was not cruel, and had only sought to tweak Bert’s ears. Still, it wouldn’t do to acknowledge defeat, and so as he drew off he said in a fierce tone: “Now, then, find those slippers!”
But Bert shook his head. “Can’t, Holden; I’ve joined the union. Didn’t you read the proclamation?”