"Yes. I must finish a letter. Good-night, Jack, old man. I've had a bully time."
The buttons was helping him on with his coat, and he repeated, "Good-night, Jack, old man. I've had a bully time." His voice nearly broke.
Then the door closed, and Stehman, who was angry, turned toward the convulsing crowd by the fire and said, in a calm voice, "I greatly admire what you fellows have done this evening. You are indeed typical Princeton men. Oh, you have the true spirit."
"Fine poler, your quiet, inoffensive, young friend," some one rejoined with a chuckle.
"Not ashamed—as you were reminding us the other night—not ashamed of being a poler either," said the fellow Stehman had jumped on for being a kid.
"Wow!" cried Bangs, with a groan of laughter. "I haven't had so much horse since sophomore year."
Then Linton spoke. "Jackie, dear, don't look that way. It's not nice. And do not chew a rag because your little poler did not develop as you wanted him to. You must learn to part with your ideals——"
"And, Jack, you must admit," interrupted Davis, "that it was absurdly comical. It was mean to laugh, but how could we help it? His standing up there and kicking up his poler antics, like an old cow, and thinking all the time that he was——"
The rest was cut short by Stehman's bringing his big fist down upon a table by the window. "But, Dougal," he thundered, "that doesn't make any difference. He was my guest. Because he tried to bring himself down to our tone you fellows let him make a fool of himself, and sat there and laughed at him, like a set of snobs. Jackson, get my coat."
"You needn't talk so loud," growled a sarcastic-faced post-graduate. "The people across the street don't care to hear about it."