“Really, Ted, it’s too warm, thank you; and Mr. Bard and I will be leaving soon, anyhow.”
“Indeed!” he said, with a quick side-glance in Mauney’s direction. Then he turned towards him. “Staying in town long, Mr. Bard, may I ask?”
“Quite a little while,” said Mauney. “I’m billed to appear every morning at nine—at the collegiate, in the role of plain teacher.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Courtney with evident surprise. “Teacher! Oh, indeed! I don’t envy you the job of trying to pound knowledge into some of the local skulls, but I hope you like the town.”
“So far I’ve found it unusually interesting,” replied Mauney, with a twinkle of mischievous light in his eyes. “I think the word ‘variegated’ would describe my first impressions—some skulls much thicker than others, as you can readily imagine.”
“Oh, yes, yes, of course,” said Courtney, a trifle puzzled at Mauney’s apparent innuendo. “I’m damned if I quite grasp what you mean, though.”
“Well, you see, it’s like this,” smiled Mauney, with sudden decision to soften his own manner to the meaningless vapidity of Courtney’s, “I’ve really been here only one day as yet and, no matter how shrewd an observer I was, one could hardly expect me to know the place, could one?”
“Of course not,” readily admitted Courtney, with a glance toward Freda, who was quite preoccupied. “Well, Freda,” he said, turning to leave, “I trust you will be more careful about speeding in future. I hear Pinkerton’s outfit getting into their stride; so, cheerio!” With a little wave of his hand he left, without again looking at Mauney.