whom you please. I like to pick my company," answered the bully.
"And we don't pick poorhouse nobodies," added another boy, keeping close to the bully.
At the latter words Dave turned white, and allowed himself to drop to the floor. Like a flash he understood what had been going on and why some of his fellow-students had been treating him so strangely.
"What—what do you mean?" he faltered, facing the bully of Oak Hall.
"I mean just what I say, Dave Porter. I don't want anything to do with you," answered Gus Plum, loudly. "I can't understand why Dr. Clay allowed you to become a pupil here."
"Plum, you're a—a brute," interposed Phil, drawing himself up. "This sort of thing isn't fair at all," he went on, earnestly. "Dave is a good fellow, and you know it."
"Pooh! Stick up for him if you wish, but as for me, I don't intend to associate with a poorhouse fellow; yes, and a mere nobody at that."
Plum had scarcely uttered the words when he found himself in Dave's grip. The face of the country youth was like a sheet and his grasp was like that of steel.
"Gus Plum, you take that back!" he muttered, hoarsely. "Take it back, or I'll—I'll——"
