When Snorky Green, to whom Miss Dabtree was more aunt than woman, came bursting in an hour later, with the rebellious consciousness of having thoroughly earned the five-dollar bill which lay in the safest of pockets, he stopped short at the sight of his roommate in that reclining concentration which Sherlock Holmes has popularized, the briar pipe being replaced by a large pencil, on which Skippy was chewing in heavy meditation.
"I say, Skippy, the old girl certainly came up handsome!" said Snorky gleefully, searching for the bill.
"Sh—sh!" said Skippy without turning.
"What the deuce?"
"I want to think."
"Danged if he isn't inventing something else!" said Snorky, who went on tiptoe to a position where he could study the frowning outward signs of the mental disturbances which were undoubtedly working inwardly. At the end of a silent hour, Skippy condescended to relax.
"Well!" said Snorky excitedly.
Skippy rose with dignity and went to the window, gazing out a moment into the darkling night where unknown myriads of mosquitoes lurked all unconscious of the doom impending over them.
"I say, Skippy, what's the big idea?"
"It's big—bigger than anything you ever imagined," said Skippy impressively.