John leaped across the room, threw his cap upon the floor, and had poured out his good news before he got his overcoat off.
"Isn't that the dandiest luck?" he finished up. "I've just been down at Huntley's office. He telephoned just before supper. And I'm to have all expenses paid beside, and nothing but Dagoes and Chinamen to dope." He had taken off his boots by this time and was rummaging in the bedroom for his slippers, never pausing a moment in his talk.
"Huntley's a gentleman all right, isn't he? Of course, it's all 'cause he's so sweet on Lizzie; but I'm mighty thankful his sweetness came in my direction. A chap like you, with one of the best farms in Ontario at his back, can't have any idea what it's like to go to college on wind. Say, won't it seem funny to have little Lizzie married to that chap. She wouldn't confess to-day, but I could see there was something up."
He paused at last, for it was being borne in upon his joy-blended senses that his chum, who had always heretofore rejoiced when he rejoiced, was making no response.
"It'll be good practice for my first year, don't you think?" he asked rather lamely.
"Oh, yes, I suppose so." Charles Stuart's answer was even lamer.
John emerged from his room bearing the captured slippers.
"You're not sick, are you, old man?" he asked.
"Sick? No! What makes you ask such a fool question?"
"Why, you're looking perfectly green round the gills. You're not going out, are you?"