“Duncan is a little queer. He takes things hard sometimes. The more he feels a thing, the less he likes to talk about it.”
The visitor departed, leaving Sam to puzzle over this new light on the actions of his incomprehensible room-mate. On first impulse he vowed that if Peck was such a fool that he wouldn’t say plainly what he wanted, his wants didn’t deserve consideration. Sam himself, in Peck’s circumstances, would not have hesitated an instant; he might have been annoyed, but he would have declared his annoyance frankly; he wouldn’t have played the sorehead. But was there really any ground for annoyance? Sam imagined himself in Peck’s place, and answered immediately “yes.” In fact, the more he considered it, the more serious the offence became. A fourth-year boy unceremoniously bundled out of his old quarters by a newcomer because of a few days’ delay in arriving, and then calmly told he might move himself back if he wished! It was a fresh thing to do; Sam squirmed in his chair under the lash of his own conscience; however silly on the part of Peck to pout like a foolish school-girl, there was no defence for that act.
The recitation bell gave forth its dreary clang; Peck rushed in, took some books from his desk and started for the door.
“Bruce has been here,” said Archer.
“I saw him,” replied Peck, as he crossed the threshold.
This exchange of chilly brevities jarred on Sam’s perturbed feelings. No one but a lobster or a sorehead would sulk that way! It would be of no use to offer apologies to such a fellow. The only course was to say nothing and replace the furniture.
Glad to do something to make amends for his error, Sam dug out Birdie Fowle from the room opposite, led him into Number 7, and set forth his demands. By concentration of will power, he at length succeeded in giving Birdie’s good-natured inclination to do anything anybody asked of him, the victory over his disinclination to do anything at all. Together they hustled Sam’s bedroom furniture and general movables into the study, placed Peck’s bed in the corner room, moved his bureau without disturbing the articles on top, and hung his wall ornaments in corresponding positions in the new quarters. The contents of his own closet Sam cleared out, but Peck’s he left unprofaned for the owner himself to change. After that, the pair dumped Sam’s possessions miscellaneously in the inferior room, and adjourned to Porter’s drug store for consolatory fudges at Archer’s expense.
When Sam returned he found Peck standing on the threshold of his old room, looking unpleasantly surprised.
“What have you been doing now?” he demanded, as Sam entered the study.
“Birdie and I have just put your things back in your old room,” answered Archer. “We did it carefully. I don’t think anything is hurt. You’ll have to shift your clothes yourself.”