Just, being younger, was even more deeply
interested than his brother in the prospective encounter, and received
his final instructions with ill-concealed glee.
"All right!" he gurgled. "I'm to give him a good scare, in the shape of
a lecture--with a thrashing promised if he cuts up any more. He's to
give his word, on pain of a lot of things, not to give any of this
little performance of his away to a soul. Then he's to be forbidden the
premises while Miss Peyton is on them. I understand."
"Well, now, look here," warned Jeff. "I give you leave, but, mind you, I
trust your discretion, too. You never can tell what these Willie-boys
will do. Dignity's your cue. Be stern as an avenging fate, but don't get
to cuffing him round and batting him with language just because you're
bigger. You----"
"Look here," expostulated Just, aggrieved, "you picked me out for this
job; now leave it to me. I'll have the boy saying 'sir' to me before I
get through."
Just ran down to the boat-house, got out a slim craft, launched it, and
was about rowing away when he bethought himself of something.
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