"So did I; but he didn't. He's more decent than I gave him credit for being. I like Carter. He's all right."
"You're the first person I ever heard say so."
"Perhaps people don't know him," replied Paul warmly. "You can't judge a man hot off the bat. You've got to try him out."
Donald broke into a laugh.
"Oh, he's been tried out all right. People know him too well; that's the trouble."
Paul stiffened.
"Well, all I can say is that I've found Carter mighty kind. He's treated me white. If you knew as much about him as I do you'd say so too. In the meantime I'd thank you to remember he's my friend and not run him down."
There was an awkward pause. Donald dug the toe of his shoe into the gravel walk and fidgeted uneasily.
Paul waited a moment, then, attributing his chum's silence to resentment, he added in a gentler tone: "I didn't mean to pitch into you so hard, old chap; it's only that Carter has been so mighty generous that I couldn't bear to have you light into him that way."
Donald, however, despite the conciliatory tone, did not raise his head. Instead he continued to bore holes in the walk, automatically hollowing them out and filling them up again with the tip of his boot.