your father and you insulted Mr. Potts—said he was a lunatic and all that. I don't like that sort of talk."
"I only told the truth."
"Mr. Potts is no more crazy than you are."
"We have a difference of opinion on that point."
"It was a mean thing to do, and you ought to be ashamed of yourself for doing it," went on Dave.
"Look here! I won't have you talking to me in this fashion!" roared Nat. "I'm a gentleman, I am, and I want you to know it!"
"No gentleman would treat an old man like that."
Dave had scarcely spoken when Nat Poole stepped forward and caught him by the coat collar.
"You take care!" he blustered.
"Let go of me, Nat Poole," was the quiet but firm answer. "Let go, do you hear?"
"I'll let go when I choose."
"If you don't let go I'll knock you down."
Dave's eyes were blazing, and his lips were pressed tightly together. He doubled up his right fist, and Nat Poole released his hold without delay.
"I won't fight with such a low fellow as you," muttered the rich youth.
"I am not as low a fellow as you are. I know how to behave myself."
