“Never heard of it. What’s your name?”
“Tommy Remington. What’s yours?”
“I’m Jack Sexton. But, I say, I wouldn’t let myself be called ‘Tommy.’ That’s a kid’s name. Make ’em call you Tom.”
Tommy lay for a moment without replying. He had not thought of it before, but the stranger was right. “Tommy” was unquestionably a baby-name. Just then another bell rang.
“Hullo, there goes the second bell!” exclaimed Jack. “We’ve got to hustle if we want to get any breakfast.”
He sprang out of bed, and Tommy followed him. He picked up a great, soft towel, and vanished through a door at the farther end of the room. In a moment Tommy heard a prodigious splashing of water.
“Hurry up,” called Jack. “Bring your towel and come in here, or you’ll be late.”
Tommy picked up his towel and hurried into the other room. He paused an instant at the door in amazement. Jack stood under a wide stream of water, dancing fiendishly and rubbing his face and head.
“Come on in,” he sputtered. “It’s great fun.”
Tommy threw off his night-clothes, and in an instant was also under the stream. The water made him shiver when it first touched him, but his healthy vitality asserted itself, and that first shower-bath was enjoyed to the uttermost. Then out again, with the great towels around them, rubbing the skin until it glowed.