His close-cropped light hair bristled fiercely, and
his nose was still slightly swollen; his chin also was still raw where
Bob had planted his fist the day before. Bob thought how much longer ago
than that it seemed; so many things had happened in the last two days.
"What are you doing here?" demanded Frank brusquely.
Bob and Hugh had been so surprised by the sudden opening of the door that
for a moment neither one of them replied.
"What do you want?" exclaimed Frank.
"We've got a letter for your mother," said Bob.
Frank glared at them under lowering brows. "Who from?" he asked.
"That's for her to find out," said Bob. "It's addressed to her you see."
Frank snatched the letter from Bob's outstretched hand, and made as if he
was about to go in and shut the door.
"Wait a minute," exclaimed Hugh. "Here's another."
"What kind of a joke are you trying to play on me?" cried Frank angrily.
"None at all," said Hugh. "This one is for your father."
Frank grew red in the face, "If this is a joke I swear you'll be sorry
for it," he exclaimed hotly.
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