“I’d like to go all right,” Mauney admitted, “but I want to find some place to stay.”
“What kind of digs are you after—you know, what kind of a place?”
“I haven’t a very good idea myself.”
Lee studied Mauney’s open face for a moment as if trying to decide what category to place him in. It was evident from his own expression that he found something likeable about his new acquaintance, for he smiled with combined indulgence and curiosity.
“What have you been working at, Mr. Bard?” he asked.
“Farming, all my life.”
“Oh, I see. Decided to shake the plough now?”
Mauney nodded. “Yes, I wouldn’t have stayed so long at it, only you know how circumstances sometimes determine a fellow’s fate.”
“Sure thing, you said something,” admitted Lee, a little sadly. “I’d have been in the army except for the astounding circumstance, quite a surprise to me, that some imaginative medical officer fancied he heard a menagerie inside of my chest. There’s never been a thing wrong with me,” he affirmed, “but just because that chap with the stethescope didn’t like the way I breathed, I am here to-day, plugging along in third year medicine. Why! I managed to clean up the intercollegiate tennis last fall. I cite that merely as evidence of health.”