“Shut up, Alf,” said Dan. “Gerald hadn’t any business getting fresh.”
“Well, why did he lie about me, then?” Gerald demanded.
“When you’ve been in school longer, Gerald, you’ll learn that you’ve got to put up with a lot of lies. Lies don’t hurt any—as long as they are lies.”
“Well, I wasn’t afraid of him, and if——”
“You’d have gone and had a mix-up in the gym and got into a lot of trouble,” interrupted Dan severely. “It’s a good thing Thompson or Durfee, or whoever it was, interfered.”
“Think of Arthur Thompson jumping in and saving our young hero!” chuckled Alf. “Why, last year Gerald was training to fight him to a finish. Gerald, I’ll bet you could get the best of Jake Hiltz; he doesn’t know a thing about boxing.”
“Well, Gerald isn’t going to fight Hiltz,” said Dan warmly. “And I wish you’d quit putting fool ideas into his head, Alf.”
“Yes, mamma! Thank you, mamma. I consider myself reproved and slapped twice on the wrist. Come on to dinner and stop worrying, Gerald. It’ll all come out in the wash. And Dan’s right, too. After you’ve been here a little longer you’ll find that a fellow’s got to put up with a lot of fool yarns. Just as long as you play fair you don’t have to worry about what fellows say. Come on now; this is roast-beef day, and I’m as hungry as a bear!”