MR. CRANE'S WORDS

"What are you doing here?" said Tim angrily, as soon as he recovered from his surprise.

"I came over to stack your room."

"You did? You did?" said Tim, as if he could hardly believe what he had heard.

His astonishment arose not from the fact that Ward should have come for the purpose which he so calmly expressed, but from the fact that he should have stated it so boldly. The one part Tim could readily understand, but the other was something he could not comprehend. To him there was but one explanation, and that was that Ward was somehow openly defying him, and Tim's anger was correspondingly increased.

With all his faults Tim Pickard was no coward, as the word is ordinarily used. That is, he had no fears of a physical contest, and as he stood in the doorway before him Ward readily perceived what a fine specimen of young manhood in its bodily form Tim was. Tall, with broad shoulders and with the fire and force of vigorous health manifest in every phase of his bearing, he would not be an antagonist whom most boys would care to meet.

Ward himself was no weakling. Though he was not so large as Tim, his compact and well-knit frame betokened physical powers of no mean order. And his quiet bearing served to increase the impression of his fearlessness too, and for a moment the two seniors stood quietly facing each other, each being conscious of the fact that a contest between them would be no light affair.

"Well, why don't you stack it then?" said Tim at last with a sneer. "Here's the room and you've got my full consent to go ahead--if you can."

"I'm not going to stack it," said Ward quietly.

"Oh, you're not? Well, that's kind of you, I must say," laughed Tim. "Well, if you're not going to stack it, will you leave or shall I put you out? I don't want any sneaking hypocrite prowling around here."

"I shall leave, but you won't put me out," replied Ward, his face flushing as he spoke.

"Well, leave then, will you? You can't do it too soon to suit me."

Ward did not stir.

Tim's face flushed with anger and he advanced a step nearer the table, and Ward braced himself for the conflict which now appeared to be inevitable.

Before anything could be done, however, the door was suddenly pushed open and Jack burst into the room. A hasty glance at the two boys revealed at once to him the condition of affairs, and taking a position between the two, he said:

"Here now, quit this, will you?"

"You don't suppose I'm going to sit down quietly and let a fellow go to work stacking my room, do you?" said Tim. "This sneak says that was just what he came for."

"No, I don't believe you'd do any such thing," replied Jack; "neither do I think you would think Ward Hill would be likely to do any such thing, either. If he came over here to stack your room, it's no more than you deserve, and he'd be only paying off old scores."

"I never stacked his room," replied Tim evasively.

"No, you never had the nerve to do that openly, but you can set such fellows as Ripley and Choate and a lot of others up to it. Oh, you needn't beg off, Tim Pickard. I know you through and through, and so does Ward Hill too; and if he came over here to set your room up, he knows, and I know, and you know, and I know you know that we know, you're only being paid off in your own coin."

Tim was silent, and Jack quickly perceiving his advantage, went on. "Now, look here, you fellows. You can't get into any scrap here, not so long as I'm in the room. The first thing you know Ma Perrins would be at the door, and you know she would report the thing at once to Doctor Gray. Then what would happen? You, Tim, aren't in very good shape for receiving an invitation to come up and confer with him about 'the best interests of the school,' as he puts it. You know what would follow mighty sudden. And Ward here isn't in just the best position in the world for a faculty meeting, though I think he'd be in a good deal better one than you, Tim, for he's only trying to protect himself. Even a worm will turn, and I don't believe Doctor Gray would blame a fellow too much for taking the law into his own hands and trying to put a stop to having his room stacked every day of his life."

"But I haven't stacked his room, I'm telling you," interrupted Tim.

"Oh, give that ancient and antiquated aphorism a period of relaxation, will you, Tim? That doesn't work here, let me tell you. I know what I'm talking about."

"But I don't see what this sneak thinks he's going to gain by stacking my room," persisted Tim. "I shouldn't have to set it up again myself. I'm no West Hall pauper. I don't have to take care of my own room. Thank fortune, I've got some one to do my dirty work for me."

"Yes, that's what you're always doing, Tim Pickard," retorted Jack angrily, as he saw Ward flush at the brutal words; "you're always getting some one to do that for you. But let me tell you one thing, this stacking of Ward's room has got to be stopped."

"Who's going to stop it, I'd like to know?" replied Tim boldly.

"Oh, there's more than one way of doing that," replied Jack quietly. "Now, if you don't want to be sent home again for good and all, you'll see to it that Ward Hill's room isn't troubled again. That's all I've got to say about it."

"What'll you do? Go and report it to Doctor Gray?"

"I'm not telling what'll be done, but I am telling you that it isn't going to happen again. I know you and you know me, and you know too that I don't talk for the fun of hearing my own voice. Come on, Ward," he added, "you'll not be bothered any more after this. Good-bye, Tim," he called out as he and Ward together left the room.

But Tim made no response.

Neither of the boys spoke until they were in front of East Hall, then as Ward turned to go to his own room, Jack said, "What was the trouble? You had time enough to rip the carpet apart, to say nothing of upsetting everything in the room."

"I can't explain it, Jack; I don't know just why I didn't, but I couldn't do it, and that's all there was about it. When I got into the room, it all came over me what a mean, contemptible thing it was, and how I felt toward Tim for his work in West Hall; and on his table was a picture of his dead mother appearing to look reproachfully at me. It seemed to me that I couldn't do it, and if I did I'd be doing the very thing that set me so against him. And so I couldn't, and that's all there is about it."

"You're a queer chap," said Jack thoughtfully. "I thought I knew you pretty well, but I've got to give you up, I'm afraid. Ma Perrins came out into the hall while I was on guard there, and as I saw she looked a little surprised to see me, I went into the parlor with her just to quiet her fears and give you a chance to put in your fine work. I was horrified when I saw Tim rush into the house like a young whirlwind, and before I could call to him he was up the stairs as if he'd been shot out of a gun. You'd better believe I cut short my interview with Ma and made a break for Tim's room. I was half afraid I'd find only a few small pieces of you and Tim left, and that I'd have to beg the loan of one of Ma's platters to bring you home on. But I can't make you out, Ward. I hardly know now why you didn't fix Tim's room so that it would have been a living monument of your ability in that line. That's what I'd have done."

As Ward made no reply, Jack added: "Well, never mind, old fellow! Perhaps it's just as well. Tim won't bother you again, that is, I mean you won't have your room stacked again. You can rest easy about that."

"Thank you, Jack. You've been a good friend to me, and I need friends too."

"Don't mention it," replied Jack impulsively, as he reached forth his hand and shook Ward's ............