“Oh, thunder!” gasped Madison. “All right; didn’t suppose you were so touchy to-night, Jack, old sport. It’s all right; talk to him all you want to. I won’t come into the game.”
The Virginian bowed gravely, and again turned to Frank, who had poured some gin in a glass and received a chaser of water from the barkeeper.
“We are old friends, Merriwell,” said Diamond, still with the same air of polite intoxication, “and I’d do anything for you. You know it. You’re the best all-round man in Yale—the best man that ever entered the college. You have no vices. You are clean from your toes to the tip-ends of your hair. You’ve never poisoned yourself with tobacco or drink or high living of any sort. You’ve always taken the very best of care of your body and your mind. Now, don’t tell me you are going to spoil it all by making a fool of yourself and drinking gin!”
“That’s right,” muttered Madison, with a chuckle, unable to keep still longer. “For the love of goodness, drink something besides gin! Have a highball with me.”
“Please, sah—please!” frowned Jack, with a gentle gesture of his right hand, turning his eyes toward the irrepressible chap with the yellow hair.
“Shut up, Billy!” advised Herrick. “Let Jack talk to his friend. Of course, the man will take a drink just the same after Jack has wasted his breath, but that’s none of your business.”
Frank felt like hitting the sneering fellow. He was tempted to shove back the stuff onto the bar, and inform Herrick that he had made a mistake. Then he told himself that by so doing he might throw away his chance of learning the real meaning of Diamond’s actions and condition, and he simply pretended that he did not hear the man’s words.
“You’re a nice fellow to talk to me, Jack!” laughed Frank.
“That’s all right, Merry,” asserted Diamond unsteadily, his fine face flushed and his eyes gleaming redly. “It’s different with me.”
“I fail to see it. You are a gentleman, and the son of a gentleman.”