silent as a statue for the space of nearly two minutes.
"Hey!" challenged Van suddenly, giving his arm a vigorous shake. "Are you dreaming, Ralph?"
Ralph roused himself. He determined to clear the situation, if it could be cleared.
"Van," he said definitely, "what were you doing at that window?"
"Why, didn't you see—looking in."
"I know you was. In other words, spying. Oh, Van—spying on my mother!"
Van Sherwin's eyes flashed. In a trice he had whipped off his coat. His fists doubled up. He advanced on Ralph, his voice shaking with an angry sob.
"Take that back, Ralph Fairbanks!" he cried. "Do it quick, or you've got to lick me. Me spy on your mother? Why, she's pretty near my mother, too—the only one I ever remember."
"But I saw you lurking at that window," said Ralph, a good deal taken aback by Van's violent demonstration.
"Lurking, eh?" repeated Van sarcastically. "I'm a lurker, am I? And a spy? Why don't you call me a bravo—and a brigand? Humph—you chump!"
The impulsive fellow shrugged his shoulders
