handkerchief to the midmost parts of his pallid face. "There, you ole
damn pup!" he shouted, in a voice which threatened to sob. "I guess
_that'll_ teach you to be careful how you mention Dora Yocum's name on
the public streets!"

At this, Ramsey made a motion as if to rise and pursue, whereupon Wesley
fled, wailing back over his shoulder as he ran, "You wait till I ketch
you out alone on the public streets and I'll--"

His voice was lost in an outburst of hooting from his former friends,
who sympathetically surrounded the wounded Ramsey. But in a measure,
at least, the chivalrous fugitive had won his point. He was routed and
outdone, yet what survived the day was a rumour, which became a sort of
tenuous legend among those interested. There had been a fight over Dora
Yocum, it appeared, and Ramsey Milholland had attempted to maintain
something derogatory to the lady, while Wesley defended her as a
knightly youth should. The something derogatory was left vague; nobody
attempted to say just what it was, and the effects of the legend divided
the schoolroom strictly according to gender.

The boys, unmindful of proper gallantry, supported Ramsey on account of
the way he had persisted in lickin' the stuffin' out of Wesley Bender
after receiving that preliminary wallop from Wesley's blackjack
bundle of books. The girls petted and championed Wesley; they talked
outrageously of his conqueror, fiercely declaring that he ought to be
arrested; and for weeks they maintained a new manner toward him. They
kept their facial expressions hostile, but perhaps this was more for one
another's benefit than for Ramsey's; and several of them went so far out
of their way to find even private opportunities for reproving him that
an alert observer might have suspected them to have been less indignant