“Gents,” said Ready, as he brushed the remains of the lunch from his person, “you do me proud. You have made me very, very happy this evening by the warm reception you have given me. It was an unexpected pleasure, and a great honor. In time I shall do my best to retaliate on some other freshman—when I become a sophomore.”
“Then you hold no hardness against us?” inquired one of the hazers.
“Not at present, but I’d like to hold a hardness against you—something like a good club, for instance.”
“That would be cruel.”
“Oh, well, I’m a cruel devil occasionally.”
“You’re a cool devil all the time.”
“Thanks. You have made it hot for me.”
“Won’t you sing some more?” asked Chan Webb. “You must do something to entertain us.”
“Is that so? Then I’ll give you an imitation of you. I am great on imitations.”
With that, Ready rose once more, humped himself into a peculiar position, drew up his face, made a queer sound with his mouth, and gave an excellent imitation of a monkey. Indeed, he looked so much like a huge monkey that the imitation was almost startling.