"Anything left of the allowance?"
"Sure."
"Not possible!"
"Seven cents."
"Could you use a five spot?"
"Gee, Sam!"
"All right, all right. Pick it out over there on the bureau. How's your conduct?"
"Pretty good."
Skippy, perched on the window-seat, watched with an approving eye the splendors that a college education had bestowed. Sam's hair parted without a rebellious ripple and lay down in perfect discipline. There never were such immaculate white flannel trousers, such faultless buckskin shoes and tie, while the socks and the touch of handkerchief which bloomed from the breastpocket were a perfect electric blue.
"Well, Skippy, I'll have to look you over," said Sam carelessly. "Time you had a few pointers. What did you do at school?"