“Now, as a matter of fact, Jake, I don’t think he is. The Gumshoe, as I have reason to know, can be uncommonly mean, but I don’t believe for a minute that he’s a sneak. I am coming by degrees, reflection bein’ aided by merciful separation, to understand the Gumshoe’s point of view: it’s pinched and peaked, but it isn’t sneaky—he is just as disagreeable to your face as he possibly can be behind your back. He’s had a hard row to hoe, and I don’t blame him now and then for being crabbed and sour. But I reckon he takes it out in that.” “I don’t think he does,” said Finch quite unconvinced by Tony’s more generous reasoning. “I don’t think so at all. He’d strike in the dark. I don’t trust him.” “Reggie never would either,” Tony mused for the moment; then more cheerfully, “But come, let’s talk of something pleasant. How——Why, hello, Ted.” This last exclamation was directed at a drab comical face and ruffled head of mouse-colored hair that thrust itself through the half-open doorway. “Come in, you duffer.” “Didn’t know you were busy,” said Teddy Lansing, entering. “Well, I ain’t,” said Tony. Finch rose from his seat on the window-sill and sidled toward the door. “I guess I’ll be going,” he said to Deering, and bolted. “Now, what the deuce is the matter with him?” exclaimed Tony. “He shies at his shadow.” “Pah—Pinch!” Teddy spat with emphasis at the waste paper basket. Tony looked up quickly, but restrained the impulse of annoyance. “What’s the matter with Finch?” “Oh, nothing particular. I just don’t like him. He’s a sneak. But there, I beg your pardon, Tony,” Teddy caught himself, remembering the cause of Deering’s quarrel with Wilson. “I suppose you will stand up for him. I don’t know much about him; but he got on my nerves last spring to a degree. Guess he’s bug-house.” “He has had a blamed hard time here—that accounts for it. But I don’t think he is a sneak. If we had given him half a chance——.” “I know, I know, old chap; you’ve certainly given him more than half a chance, and if you think it pays, all right all right. I think, you know, that Pinch isn’t worth the trouble you’ve taken with him. But I’ll admit that I had no right to call him a sneak. However he hasn’t made good here.” “Perhaps not,” said Tony. “But I wish he could. Where’s the crowd?” “Unpacking, I guess. What sort of a summer have you had, old man? We missed you a lot here last spring.” “Bully—I was down in the mountains, North Carolina. Where were you?” “Oh, home mostly. Confound! there’s the bell for Chapel. Come on, let’s wander down.”