I had seen those trousers on you before, Fred, and you're wearing them again at this minute." Fred glanced downward, starting.
"You see," insisted the freshman, "there's no sense in denying that you put Tip up to the game that got him into the penitentiary." "How many have you told this to ?" demanded Fred, fright showing in his face.
"My chums suspect," Dick answered, frankly.

"I'm pretty sure I haven't told anyone else." "Good thing you haven't, then," retorted Fred, recovering some of his usual impudence.

"My father is a lawyer, and he'd know how to make you smart if you started libelous yarns about me." "Your father being a lawyer, I think he would also be likely to show an investigating turn of mind.

You can put it up to your father if you want to, Fred." Young Ripley winced.

Prescott laughed lightly.
"Now, see here, Fred, I don't want to live on bad terms with anyone.
You've got good points, I'm sure you have." "Oh, thank you," rejoined the sophomore, with exaggerated sarcasm.
"And I'll be glad to begin being on good terms with you at any time, if you should ever really want such a thing," continued the freshman.