"I heard he was packer," said Stover, not particularly depressed. In the college the rumor had always been that the Keys crowd had what was termed a packer in the junior class, who helped them to pledge some of their selections before Tap Day.
"Sure he is," said Troutman, with conviction.
"Wish he'd stuck to Bones," said Schley. "Yours truly would feel more hopeful."
"Why, you fellows are sure," said Stover to be polite.
"The deuce we are!"
Schley, tiring of the conversation, was amusing himself from the back seat by well-simulated starts of surprise and a sudden snatching off of his hat to different passers-by, exclaiming:
"Why, how do you do. I remember meeting you before."
He did it well, communicated his good spirits to the pedestrians, who took his banter good-naturedly.
All at once his mischievous eye perceived two girls of a rather noticeable type. Instantly he was on his feet, with an exaggerated sweep of his hat, exclaiming:
"Ladies, accept my carriage, my prancing horses, my groom and my footman."