A horrid nervous feeling came over me,--I just _felt_ there was going to
be trouble. I stood up on the steps quickly, and called out, "Oh, boys,
_don't_ quarrel! Oh, please, _please_ don't quarrel!" But Phil was
talking, and I don't believe they even heard me.
"Get away from that door,--I'm going out!" Phil commanded.
Not a word answered Fee; he just stood there, his eyes shining steadily
up at Phil through his glasses.
"Do you hear me?" Phil said savagely. "Get--out--of--the--way. I don't
want to hurt you, but I am _determined_ to go out. Come,--move!"
He stepped nearer Felix, with a peremptory wave of his hand, and
glowered at him. But Fee didn't flinch. "No," he said quietly, but in
just as positive a tone as Phil's, "I will _not_ move." Then, suddenly,
a sweet, quick smile flashed over his face, and he threw his hands out
on Phil's shoulders as he stood before him, saying, in that winning way
of his, "I'm not a bit afraid of _your_ ever hurting me, old
Lion-heart."
I heard every word distinctly, but Phil didn't; in his rage he only
caught the first part of what Fee said, and with a sharp, angry
exclamation he shoved Felix violently aside, and, hastily opening the
door, stepped into the vestibule.
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