“No, it’s all wrong!” blurted out Sid. “I can’t understand girls!”
“That’s rich!” cried Phil. “Here you have been despising them all your life, and now, when you do make up to one, and something happens, you say you can’t understand them. No man can, old chap. Look at Tom and me, here, and we’ve had our share of affairs, haven’t we, old sport.”
“Speak for yourself,” replied the pitcher. “But what’s the row, Sid?”
“Hanged if I know. I told her I couldn’t possibly go to-night——”
“Did you tell her why?” interrupted Phil.
“Well, I said I had received word that I had to go away, and—er—well I can’t explain that part of it even to you fellows. I’ve got to go away for a short time, that’s all. It’s fearfully important, of course, or I wouldn’t break a date with a girl. I can’t explain, except that I have to go. I tried to tell her that; and then I said I’d arranged with you to take her, Tom.”
“You what?” cried the amazed pitcher.
“I told her I was going to have you take her.”
“Without asking her whether it would be agreeable to her?”