at line of dope out to him as straight as you gave
it to me?"

He gawps at me a second, like I'd advised him to jump off the roof.
"Do--do you think I ought?" says he.

I has to choke back a chuckle. Wanted my advice, did he? Well, say, I
could give him a truckload of that!

"It depends," says I, "on how deep the yellow runs in you. Course it's
all right for you to register this leader about not bein' scared of him.
You may think you ain't, but you are all the same; and as long as you're
in that state you're licked. That's the big trouble with most of
us,--bein' limp in the spine. We're afraid of our jobs, afraid of what
the neighbors will say, afraid of our stomachs, afraid of to-morrow. And
here you are, prowlin' around on the outside, gettin' yourself messed
up, and standin' to lose the one and only girl, all because an old stuff
like Pulsifer says 'Boo!' at you and tells you to 'Scat!' Come on now,
better let me lead you out and see you safe through the gate."

Course that was proddin' him a little rough, but I wanted to bring this
thing to a head somehow. Made Gilkey squirm in his chair too. He begins
rollin' his trousers down over the bandages and struggles into his coat.

"I suppose you're right," says he. "I--I think I will go in and see Mr.
Pulsifer."

"Wha-a-at?" says I. "Now?"

"Why not?" says he, pushin' through the swing door.

"Hey!" I calls out, jumpin' after him. "Better let me break it to 'em in
there."

"As you please," says Gilkey; "only let's have no delay."

So I skips across the hall and into the lib'ry, where they're all makin'
a stab at bein' chatty and gay, with Pa Pulsifer in the center.

"Excuse me," says I, "but there's a young gent wants a few words with
Mr. Pulsifer."

"What's that?" growls Adam K., glarin' about suspicious at the gaspy
circle. "What young man?"

"Why," says I, "it's----" But then in he stalks.

"Oh, Herbert!" sobs Edna, makin' a wild grab at Marjorie for support.

As for Pa Pulsifer, his eyes get stary, the big vein in the middle of
his forehead swells threatenin', and his bushy white eyebrows seem to
bristle up.

"You!" he snorts. "How did you get in here, Sir?"

"Through the kitchen," says Gilkey. "I came to tell you that----"

"Stop!" roars Pulsifer, stampin' his foot and bunchin' his fists
menacin'. "You can't tell me anything, not a word, you--you
good-for-nothing young scoundrel! Haven't I warned you never to step
foot in my house again? Didn't