it'd hurt you worse than anybody I know."

Chip calmly sifted some tobacco into a cigarette paper. His mouth was
very straight and his brows very close together.

"It's a devilish good thing it was YOU said that, Weary. If it had been
anyone else I'd punch his face for him."

"Why, yes--an' I'd help you, too." Weary, his mouth very much on one
side of his face that he might the easier shave the other, spoke in
fragments. "You don't take it amiss from--me, though. I can see--"

The door slammed with extreme violence, and Weary slashed his chin
unbecomingly in consequence, but he felt no resentment toward Chip.
He calmly stuck a bit of paper on the cut to stop the bleeding and
continued to shave.


A short time after, the Little Doctor came across Chip glaring at Dick
Brown, who was strumming his guitar with ostentatious ease upon an
inverted dry-goods box at one end of the long dining room.

"I came to ask a favor of you," she said, "but my courage oozed at the
first glance."

"It's hard to believe your courage would ooze at anything. What's the
favor?"

The Little Doctor bent her head and lowered her voice to a confidential
undertone which caught at Chip's blood and set it leaping.