Arthur’s patience gave way, and his temper with it. Crossing the room in three bounds, he lifted Harry from his chair, seized the two big albums and the smaller one, and, striding to his closet, opened the door and tossed the books on to the shelf. Then he turned the key in the lock viciously and placed it in his pocket.
From table to closet stretched a gay, vari-colored path of loose stamps. Harry, bewildered, open-mouthed, looked from the litter on the carpet to Arthur. But before he could summon words to express some of the thoughts within him, Arthur took the floor. He had plenty to say himself, and proceeded to say it.
“I told you what I’d do if you didn’t quit,” he began, angrily. “I said I’d pitch those fool books out the window, but if I did you’d sneak them back again. Well, they’re where you won’t get them for awhile, my son, and you can just make up your mind to that! No more stamps for a week, and not then unless you spend a good part of every day outdoors. You’ve got to play tennis and take walks and get some fresh air into your little starving lungs and some color into your little white face, Harry. Now you clear up that mess there and get these stamps off the floor.”
“I _will_ get them! You’ve no right to boss me, Arthur Thompson! You――you’re a big bully, that’s what you are! I want my books!”
“Shut up that noise and do as I tell you. Clear that table off.”
“I won’t! I won’t, and you can’t make me! I want my stamp books!”
“You heard what I said, Harry, and you’d better believe I mean it. I’ve given you plenty of chances to act right. Now you can do without your old stamps for awhile.”
“I’ll go to Mr. Collins! I’ll――I’ll break open that door!”
Harry was so angry that his voice broke, and the tears came to his eyes. He sprang at the closet door and tugged at the handle in frantic rage. Finding that useless he faced Arthur with white face and glaring eyes. He wasn’t a pleasant sight to look at, and Arthur turned away in disgust and began to gather Harry’s rubbish into a pile on the table.
“You let those things alone! They’re not yours!” shrieked Harry. He seized Arthur’s arm with one hand and aimed a puny blow at him with the other. Arthur seized him and dumped him ingloriously on his bed, howling and kicking.