“Well, yes; if you must have it. But I tell you, I put a flea in that fellow’s ear.”
Sam shook his head doubtfully. He was reminded, quaintly, that a flea was a creature of remarkable agility, and he could not but suspect that this flea supplied by the impulsive Step might hop about very busily in the next few days.
“I guess it would be better not to do much talking for a while,” he said soberly.
“What! You’d let all the yapping go on, and say nothing?”
“I’d say as little as I could.”
Step stared at Sam. “Great Scott! If we don’t deny it, everybody will believe it’s all so!”
“Well, deny it, then, and stop there.”
Step whistled softly. “Whe-e-e! Sam, I reckon you don’t know all the trimmings the story is getting. It’s an awful thing for you and for the whole club.”
“I see that,” said Sam. “What hits any one of a crowd like ours hits the whole bunch. That’s the worst of it.”
“But can’t we do anything?” Step demanded impatiently.