“It’s mine!” declared Tom. “Ruth—I mean Phil’s sister—gave it to me.”
For an instant Sid looked at his chum. Then his gaze traveled to the picture of the girl—the two girls—for that of Madge was beside the likeness of Ruth—and the former first-baseman sighed.
“Well,” he said, “I s’pose there’s no hope for it, but I wish I’d gone in with some fellows who weren’t crazy on the girl question. First thing I know you fellows will have this a regular boudoir; and then where will I be? I expect any day now you’ll be wanting to get rid of this old couch and chair, and get some mission furniture, so that you can have a five o’clock tea here, and invite some girls and chaperons.”
“Suppose we do?” asked Phil, who for some reason sided with Tom.
“Well, all I’ve got to say is that I give up,” and Sid, with a helpless look, flung himself down on the sofa and turned his back on his chums. “Next you know you’ll be playing tennis or croquet instead of football. You make me sick! I tell you what it is, if you put any more of those tomfool decorations, like flags and photographs, in this room, I’m going to quit!” and Sid spoke earnestly.
“Aw, forget it, you old misanthropic specimen of a misogynist!” exclaimed Phil with a laugh. “You’ll be there yourself some day, and then you’ll see how it is.”
“Say, you talk as if you had a girl, too!” cried Sid, sitting up again and looking fixedly at Phil.
“Maybe I have,” was the noncommittal answer.
“Then you’ve gone back on me, too,” was what Sid said, as he pretended to go to sleep.
It was quiet in the room for a while, each lad busy with his thoughts. Who shall say what they were? One thing is certain—that the gazes of Tom and Phil often traveled to the wall on which were the photographs of two girls—Madge and Ruth. Tom looked at both; but Phil—well, did you ever know a fellow, no matter how nice a sister he had, to care to steal surreptitious glances at her picture? Did you? Well, that’s all I’m going to say now.