Frank Merriwell's Chums Part 29

"Yes, sir," squeaked Jenks, defiantly. "Who's got a better right, I'd like to know?"

"But I'd have you to understand I was invited."

"So was I."

"But I received an invitation from this particular lady."

"So did I."

"Set right down on the sofy, Professor Scotch," urged Nancy. "We'll pop some corn, and eat some apples, and be real sociabul."

"Madame," said the little man, with great dignity, "I think there is some mistake."

"You'd like some steak?" exclaimed Mrs. Cobb, in surprise. "I never heerd of people havin' steak to treat callers on. I don't b'lieve there's a bit in the house. I s'pose you do git awful sick of the food they have over to the 'cademy. Now, if you was a married man, and hed a wife to cook for ye----"

"I say I think there is a mistake in this matter."

"Beefsteak in a platter? Yes, that's a good way to serve it."

The little professor gave a gasp, and collapsed onto the sofa. And Frank promptly jabbed a hatpin up through the sofa, so that it penetrated the professor to a distance of about a quarter of an inch.

CHAPTER XXII.

A LIVELY CALL.

"Whoop!" roared the big voice of the little man, and Professor Scotch shot into the air like a jumping-jack out of a box. "Wow!" he howled, clutching convulsively at that part of his person which had felt the hatpin. "What did I sit down on?"

The widow looked frightened, and Professor Jenks looked astonished.

"What did I sit down on?" repeated Professor Scotch, his red hair bristling with anger.

"Why, you sat on the sofa, sir," squeaked Jenks.

"Then there must be a whole nest of wasps concealed in that sofa!"

shouted Scotch. "I was stung, or I was stabbed--I don't know which."

"Why, I'm sure I cannot imagine what the matter with you can be,"

fluttered the widow, in distress.

"Well, I don't know what is the matter with your old sofa."

He spoke so loudly that she understood him, and she immediately turned up her nose.

"Old sofa, sir--old sofa! There is nothing the matter with that sofa.

Your language is surprisingly offensive, sir."

"Te-he, he, he!" giggled Jenks. "Now you're getting it, Scotch!

You've put your foot in it."

"Beg your pardon--beg your pardon," roared the little man. "I did not mean any offense, Mrs. Cobb, but I a.s.sure you there must be a dagger concealed in that sofa, for some pointed weapon entered my person in a most painful manner. If you will excuse me, I'll take this chair, for I really do not dare sit down there again."

The widow gave a sniff.

"Your courage is very limited," she said. "Now, I do love to admire a man with courage enough to----"

"Ex-cuse me," squealed Jenks, elevating his voice. "The sofa is good enough for me."

Down he sat upon it, smiling triumphantly.

Frank still had the hatpin--which he had found on the floor beneath the sofa--ready for use, but he held his hand a bit, knowing he could give Jenks a greater shock if he should be p.r.i.c.ked after, he had sat there a while in apparent security.

"Oh, you're a daring blade--you are!" sneered Scotch, fiercely, as he glared at Jenks. "You'd walk right up to the mouth of a cannon--if you knew it wasn't loaded!"

"Well, I never yet got frightened by a hair-cloth sofa," squeaked Jenks.

The widow smiled seductively on the long and lanky professor.

"You don't find nothing the matter with the sofy, do you, professor?"

she asked.

"Not a thing," piped Jenks. "It is ever the wicked man who feels the p.r.i.c.ks of conscience. Now, my conscience is easy, and so I do not feel----We-e-e-ow! Murder! I'm stabbed! I'm killed! We-e-ow!"

Professor Jenks shot into the air with such suddenness and vigor that he thumped his head against the low ceiling, which seemed to fling him back upon the sofa, and Frank promptly gave him a second dose of hatpin.

"Wo-o-ouch!" squealed the tall professor, bounding up again, and dancing wildly round the room, with his hands concealed beneath the tails of his coat. "That sofa is filled with broadswords and bayonets!

It is stuffed with deadly weapons!"

Professor Scotch literally roared with laughter.

"Oh, there's nothing the matter with the sofa!" he laughed. "Just go right back and sit down there. Ha! ha! ha! It is ever the wicked man who feels the p.r.i.c.ks of conscience. Ha! ha! ha! Ho! ho! ho!"

"Shut up!" piped Jenks, coming close to Scotch, at whom he shook his fist threateningly. "Shut up, or I will thump you!"

"Don't you dare do it here. If you do, I'll----"

"What?"

"I'll see you later."

"Landy ma.s.sy!" spluttered Nancy. "I do believe you've both been tooken crazy!"

Behind the organ were two boys who were holding their hands over their mouths to keep from roaring with laughter, while Frank, under the sofa, was finding it no easy task to be silent.

The widow was frightened, and both of the professors immediately sought to rea.s.sure her. They pranced up on either side, and Scotch began: