about alone or with students, and he was either too stupid or too innocent to catch on. Then I gave it to him straight, and he said I was a vile-minded fool and marched off.”
“Did you assist him with your shoe?” inquired Bowles, languidly interested.
“Well, no.”
“He called you a vile-minded fool.”
“He was correct,” said Clifford from his easel in front.
“What—what do you mean?” demanded Laffat, turning red.
“ That ,” replied Clifford.
“Who spoke to you? Is this your business?” sneered Bowles, but nearly lost his balance as Clifford swung about and eyed him.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “it’s my business.”
No one spoke for some time.
Then Clifford sang out, “I say, Hastings!”
And when Hastings left his easel and came around, he nodded toward the astonished Laffat.
“This man has been disagreeable to you, and I want to tell you that any time you feel inclined to kick him, why, I will hold the other creature.”
Hastings, embarrassed, said, “Why no, I don’t agree with his ideas, nothing more.”
Clifford said “Naturally,” and slipping his arm through Hastings’, strolled about with him, and introduced him to several of his own