"What is it?" he asked. No answer. Jimmy rose, locked the door and closed the ventilator. Then he disposed himself on the lounge.
"Tell your dad. Is it the girl?"
Pellams's affirmative was put in language unrepeatable in a book for young persons.
"Something gone wrong?"
"Yes," etc.
Jimmy wished to offer consolation. "Can I do anything?"
"Yes," growled the man in a dress suit. "You can give me a sweater and take me to Mayfield!"
Now Jimmy was a true friend. He would have gone anywhere for Pellams.
When the dance music at Roble had ceased, and the quiet of the December night was broken by only the patter of raindrops and the sound of singing in the Mayfield distance, punctuated by sharp whoops, Jimmy had got Pellams back to the Knockery pretty well consoled. It might not have made much difference just then, even if the lover could have known that over in darkened Roble, Katharine Graham, who did not approve of love affairs, lay crying herself to sleep.
Pellams rose late next day, and ate his lunch mournfully at the House. He was in an exaggerated state of repentance and resolve. After luncheon he made a sorrowful pilgrimage to the Quad. Here he learned that he had lost five hours and that the Glee Club would tour the South without him.