“Well, you may. I don’t. I know about him; and those who stand for that fellow may cut my acquaintance after this.” Walter strode off, with a large number obsequiously accompanying him.
“Well, wouldn’t that totter you?” Billy turned to “Sis.”
“We must kick in for Max good and plenty,” “Sis” flashed. “He’s good meat clear through to the bone.”
A little longer they talked, trying to think out some way to save Max from his enemy.
“Do you suppose he was ever really hungry—desperately so?” “Sis” asked with awe.
“Gee! I’ve been hungry enough between sunrise and sunset to eat an ice box whole.”
“So have I. Suppose a fellow had no father and no money, and had—gone—two days, say, unfed?”
Billy nodded violently. Words could not express such a contingency.
“I’m going right out to see Mrs. Schmitz. She and Mumps and I together surely can cook up some scheme to put Max to the good again. We’ll enlist Bess and May Nell and you and Redtop—Oh, I know, I’ll get Cousin Hec to give some sort of swell function for Max, show off his music; invite all the bang-ups, and Walter Buckman and his crowd, too—”