As a matter of fact they were the handsomest in college, and he knew it and was proud of it. The study was furnished throughout in mahogany upholstered in light-green leather, a combination of colors at first glance a trifle disconcerting, but which, when viewed in connection with the walls and draperies, was quite harmonious. The walls were covered to the height of five feet with denim of dark green. Above this a mahogany plate-rail ran about the apartment and held a few old pewter platters and tankards, some good pieces of luster-ware and a half-dozen bowls and pitchers of Japanese glaze. Above the shelf, buckram of a dull shade of mahogany red continued to the ceiling, where it gave way to cartridge-paper of a still lighter shade. The draperies at doors and windows were of the prevailing tones. The effect of the whole was one of cheerful dignity. The room was not overcrowded with furniture and the walls held a few pictures, and those of the best. There was a refreshing absence of small photographs and knickknacks. Tracy was proud of his taste in the matter of decoration and furnishing and proud of the result as here shown. Anthony liked the room without understanding it. Perhaps the little whimsical smile that curved his lips was summoned by a mental comparison of the present apartment and his own chamber with its cracked and stained whitewashed walls and povern fittings.
“You wanted to see me, you said?” prompted Tracy.
“Yes,” answered the visitor. “Maybe it will simplify matters if I start out by telling you that Jack Weatherby’s a particular friend of mine.”
“Oh,” said Tracy. “Well?”
“Well, don’t you think you’ve bothered him enough, Gilberth?”
“Look here, Tidball, I don’t like your tone,” said Tracy with asperity.
“Can’t help it,” answered Anthony. “I don’t like the way you’ve been hazing Weatherby. Now we know each other’s grievance.”
“What I’ve done to Weatherby doesn’t concern you,” said Tracy hotly. “And I’m not to be dictated to. The fellow’s a coward and a bounder.”
“Don’t know what bounder is,” answered the other dryly. “Doesn’t sound nice, though. Suppose we stop calling names? I might lose my temper and call you something, and you mightn’t like it, either. But I didn’t come up here to quarrel with you; don’t like to quarrel with a man in his room; doesn’t seem polite, does it? What I came to say is this, Gilberth: leave Weatherby alone or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“Is that a threat?”