Before dinner that evening Wallace came to his room, bearing a pair of spiked shoes.
“Yes, I found I had an extra pair,” he said carelessly. “Here you are. I hope they fit.”
David gravely tried them on. “Yes they’re a perfect fit,” he said. “I hope your new ones fit you as well.”
“My new ones?”
“Yes. You’ve been running in these right along, and you’ve just bought yourself a new pair in order to give these to me.”
“Oh, you’re dreaming.”
“It was no dream when I saw you trying them on in the store. You oughtn’t to have done it, Wallace. It was awfully good of you.”
“Oh,” Wallace said, trying to conceal his embarrassment, “I didn’t want to have you run in sneakers and lick me. That would be too much. Besides, old top, we’ve got to stand by each other; we come from the same town.”
If David could not express his appreciation fully to Wallace, he could at least tell some one who would appreciate Wallace’s act, and it came into his mind to tell Mr. Dean. Not only would Mr. Dean, who had followed his practice, be interested, but he might be moved to look more leniently on Wallace, who was giving very casual attention to his Latin.