"You stop smoking that smelly thing in my room," I said.
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure," he said. "Just remember, however, that it was I who objected to smoking in the first place." He put his pipe down. There was a knock at the door and Annie asked if we were there.
"Yes, all right," Twigg said. "Please tell Mr. Dale that Raymond and I are going to do some studying before dinner, and ask him not to wait."
"It's a lie!" I yelled. "He's locked me in. You tell my father he's locked me in, and won't let me have any dinner. Do you hear, Annie?"
"Yes, Mr. Raymond." It sounded as though she was giggling.
"You might leave some cold meat and a pitcher of milk on the sideboard, Annie; enough for two," said Twigg. "If we get through by nine we'll look for it."
"Very well, sir," she answered.
"You—you think you're smart, don't you?" I sobbed. "I'll—I'll get even for this, you bet!"
I don't care! I was hungry, and the wretched old tobacco smoke made me feel funny. You'd have cried, too. He made believe he didn't hear me.
"You're just a big, ugly bully! If I was bigger I'd smash your face! Do you hear me?"