CHAPTER XXXI
Shirt Studs as Cupid's Messenger
AFTER the room had returned to place Skippy rallied, took the introductions with preternatural stiffness, and gravitated to Snorky. The white shirt front in the most unaccountable manner had swollen to alarming dimensions, the coat tails must be dragging on the floor. His collar cut under his imprisoned neck and his large white hands, longing for sheltering pockets, seemed to float before him like inflated balloons. If his were complete manhood,—oh for a soft shirt and a turned down collar!
"Kill it," said Snorky under his breath.
"What's wrong?"
"Kill that flag of liberty, you chump!" said Snorky, glowering at the flaming edge of the silk bandana handkerchief which Skippy was sporting at his breast pocket.
"What's wrong with that? Every one does it."
"Wrong! Look around you."