“Well, of course, I split it with Allie right away. That was one of the things that made me take it without making you tell me more about it.”
“Um,” said Larry. “Then you’ll have to go to work this summer to earn some more.”
“That’s all right; I expected to do that, anyway.”
“What kind of a job?”
Purdick shrugged his shoulders. “Beggars mustn’t be choosers; and little beggars have to take what’s handed out to them. I haven’t the muscle to tackle any real man-sized job. I suppose it will be office drudgery of some kind—if I’m lucky enough to land anything.”
Larry had a swift and rather discomforting picture of the small one hived in some city office building and running an adding machine, or something of that sort, through the hot months.
“You ought to have a real vacation, Purdy; some job that would keep you outdoors every minute in the day,” he said.
“Fat chance!” Purdick returned, with a hard little laugh. “None of the outdoor jobs wants a sawed-off like me.” Then, after a pause: “Don’t you sweat about me, Larry. You’ve done enough for me, as it is. Let’s go to supper.” And he slid down from his place on the wall.
They had tramped along in comradely silence for possibly half of the long mile lying between the county bridge and the university grounds when they crossed a ramshackly little wooden span over a creek emptying into the river a few hundred yards to their left. The flimsy structure shook under them as they walked across it, and Purdick made gibing comment.