Phillip moved away from the other’s grasp coldly and pretended not to see the outstretched hand. John stared in perplexity. Then he stepped forward and again laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder.
“Phil, what does this mean?” he asked sternly. The little group of men about the door watched curiously. Phillip found his calmness deserting him. The blood seethed into his cheeks and his eyes blazed. He tore his arm from John’s hand and swept it around in something between a blow and a shove that sent the other reeling against the newel post.
“Take your hands off me, North!” he cried angrily, shrilly. Chester sprang between and pushed Phillip toward the door. John grew very white. His perplexity remained, but was swallowed up in a sudden flood of intense anger at the indignity put upon him. He strode forward, his eyes darkening, his hands clenched at his side. He had no thought of returning Phillip’s blow, if blow it was; he wanted to take the other by the collar and shake him until his teeth rattled. He found himself confronted by Chester Baker, white and determined.
“You be careful, North!” he said defiantly. Phillip strove to push by him.
“This is my affair, Chester,” he cried. But John paused and contemptuously thrust his hands into his pockets.
“I beg your pardon,” he said coldly. “I mistook you for a friend.”
“It was the biggest mistake you could have made,” replied Phillip, his voice a-tremble. Then Chester pushed him before him out the door.
The episode caused talk. A half-dozen men had witnessed it, and by the next afternoon various accounts of it had reached John’s friends and acquaintances, and it was being generally discussed, for John was a public character whose affairs interested the entire university. It became known that he had been Phillip’s guest during the holidays, and various and wonderful were the theories evolved to account for the quarrel. Phillip gained not a little notoriety; he was pointed out as “the fellow who slugged John North”; but beyond his small circle of personal friends, who, despite that he had vouchsafed to them no explanation of the affair, stood by him loyally, he was looked upon with disfavour and voted “darned fresh.”
John spoke of the affair to none save David. The latter heard of it with mingled dismay and delight, and when John had finished surprised him by the decision he rendered.
“Don’t take any more notice of him,” he said. “I don’t know any more than you what the boy’s got against you, but you may depend that it’s something he considers serious. Phil’s honest, John, whatever else he is. I suppose it’s all some silly misunderstanding, but it’s quite evident that Phil takes it very much in earnest. I suppose nothing happened down in Virginia that he could have taken exception to? Nothing about his sister, eh?”