I charged everything on the strength of my endowment, and, of course, in order to gain the credit I sought, I showed Baxter's letter, and pledged each storekeeper not to spread the story....
Before nightfall practically the whole student body knew of my good luck. And Jack Travers had found me, lying back, luxuriously clad in my newly acquired, big blue bathrobe, in my morris chair....
He looked me over with keen amusement.
Somehow, for several years, my one dream of luxury and affluence had been to own a flowered bathrobe to lounge in, and to wear on the athletic field. I had hitherto had to be content with a shabby overcoat.
On my new sectional bookcase stood a statue of the Flying Mercury, that my eye might continually drink in my ideal of physical perfection. Opposite that, stood my plaster cast of Apollo Belvedere, as indicative of the god of song that reigned over my thoughts and life.
"Jack, I want you to come and have supper with me!"
"Johnnie, you are just like a big baby ... all right, I'll dine with you, after I've shot in the story about your endowment to the Star."
"Hurry up, then,—it's after five now. I've never had enough money before, to treat you ... it's you that have always treated me."
"Where'll we dine?"