Dud thrust the door open and entered, and Jimmy quickly bolted it again. “Who’s out there?” he whispered. But before Dud could inform him Star Meyer’s voice was raised in indignant protest.
“You can’t do that, Logan! It isn’t Baker’s turn. There are three of us ahead of him. You come out of there, Baker!”
“I only took half a bath, Star,” replied Jimmy amiably. “I’m letting Dud have the other half.”
“Yes, you are! No funny business now! Here, Benson, it’s your turn. Go ahead in. They can’t do that.”
Benson, a slim, unaggressive youth, stared at Star in alarm. “I—I’m in no hurry, thanks, Meyer. I—I’d just as lief wait, thanks.”
“Then you, whatever your name is, it’s your tub!”
The second boy shook his head and grinned. “I don’t like that one,” he replied diplomatically. “The plug leaks. I’ll wait.”
Star scowled and looked doubtfully at the closed door. For some reason intense quiet prevailed. Not a splash was heard. “Then if you fellows won’t take it,” he said resolutely, “it’s my turn. That’s my tub, Baker. You’d better come out of there.”
“I’ll be out when I’ve had my bath,” was the truculent reply, followed by a sound very much like that caused by a hand descending approvingly on a bare shoulder. Star strode across and rattled the door, but the only response was the gurgling of water as the plug was withdrawn.
“I’ll report you to Mr. Gibbs,” announced Star loftily. “You’re supposed to take your turn. You’d better let me in there.”