"You said I was smoking too much," said d.i.n.k maliciously.

"Ugh! Don't--no, that wasn't it."

"Shut up, old c.o.c.kalorum," said d.i.n.k pleasantly. "I know all you want to say--found it out myself--it's all in one word--swelled head!"

"Oh!" said Tough deprecatingly, now that d.i.n.k had turned accuser.

"I've been a little, fluffy a.s.s!" said d.i.n.k, marvelously stimulated to repentance by the episode which had gone before. "But that's over. My head's subsiding."

"What?"

The two burst into sympathetic laughter.

"You--you didn't mind my sailing into you, old horse?" said Tough.

"Not now."

McCarty looked mystified.

"Tough," said d.i.n.k with a queer look, "if you had smoked that black devil and I hadn't--all would have been over between us. As it is----"

"Well?" said Tough.

"As it is--Tough, here's my hand--let's swear an eternal friendship!"

"Put it there!"

"I say, Tough----"

"What?"

"Now, on your honor--did you ever smoke a cigar before?"

"Never," said McCarty. "And I'll never smoke another. So help me."

"Nor I. I say, what was that name?"

"Invincibles."

"That's where we should have stopped!"

"d.i.n.k, I begin to feel a little chilly."

"Tough, that's a good sign; let's up."

Arm in arm, laughing uproariously, they went, still a little shaky, back toward the school.

"I say, Tough," said d.i.n.k, throwing his arm affectionately about the other's shoulders. "I've been pretty much of a jacka.s.s, haven't I?"

"Oh, come, now!"

"I'm afraid I'm not built for a sport," said d.i.n.k, with a lingering regret. "But I say, Tough----"

"What?"

"I may be the prodigal son, but you're the devil of a moral lecturer, you are!"

XXI

One Wednesday afternoon, as d.i.n.k was lolling gorgeously on his window-seat, sniffing the alert air and waiting for the moment to go skipping over to the 'Varsity field for the game with a visiting school, a voice from below hailed him:

"Oh, you, Rinky d.i.n.k!"

Stover languidly extended his head and beheld Tough McCarty.

"h.e.l.lo there, d.i.n.k."

"h.e.l.lo yourself."

"Come over to the Woodhull and meet my family."

"What!" said d.i.n.k in consternation.

"They're over for the game. Hurry up now and help me out!"

d.i.n.k tried frantically to call him back, but Tough, as though to shut off a refusal, disappeared around the house. d.i.n.k returned to the room in a rage.

"What's the matter?" said the Tennessee Shad.

"I've got to go over and meet a lot of women," said d.i.n.k in disgust.

"Confound Tough McCarty! That's a rotten trick to play on me. I'll wring his neck!"

"Go on now, make yourself beautiful!" said the Tennessee Shad, delighted. "Remember the whole school will be watching you."

"Shut up!" said d.i.n.k savagely, making the grand toilet, which consisted in putting on a high collar, exchanging his belt for a pair of suspenders and donning a pair of patent-leathers. "The place for women is at home! It's an outrage!"

He tied his necktie with a vicious lunge, ran the comb once through the tangled hair, glanced at his hands, decided that they would pa.s.s muster, slapped on his hat and went out, kicking the door open.

At the Woodhull, Tough hailed him from his window. d.i.n.k went up, bored and rebellious. The door opened, he found himself in Tough McCarty's room in the vortex of a crowd of fellow-sufferers. Over by the window-seat two fluffy figures, with skirts and hats on, were seated.

He shook hands with both; one was Mrs. McCarty, the other was the daughter, he wasn't quite sure which. He said something about the delight which the meeting afforded him, and, gravitating into a corner, fell upon Butsey White, with whom he gravely shook hands.

"Isn't this awful?" said Butsey in a confidential whisper.

"Frightful!"