"It's not that; it's because I don't wish to be laughed at and jollied."
"Which is a confession of weakness. Let them laugh; in the end, if you stick to your good resolutions, they will stop laughing and learn to respect you."
"Perhaps that's right; but I've seen some mighty mean, narrow, contracted men who never drank, never smoked, and never swore. I've seen some rascals who had none of the small vices, and usually they are the meanest sort of rascals."
"I don't doubt it; but does that prove that all men, or even the majority of men, who have none of the small vices are mean or rascally? I don't fancy you believe that. You know it's natural to suppose that a bad man should be a drinker, a smoker, and a swearer. When you see a bad man who does none of these things, it is so unusual that you immediately look on him as a representative of his kind."
Art nodded.
"Perhaps that's so," he acknowledged. "Of course, I do know men who have no vices, and who are good fellows. I swear, Merriwell, you've almost converted me."
Frank smiled.
"Would that I might wholly convert you!" he exclaimed. "Does your father know you drink?"
"Lord, no! I wouldn't have the governor know it for anything! He takes a little himself, but he thinks I'm on the water wagon yet—thinks I'm not old enough to get out with the boys and whoop her up."
After a moment he dropped the half-smoked cigarette on an ash tray.