"Bought up, eh?"
"Sure," said the speaker, with the profoundest conviction.
"Big chance, McNab, for the eleven this year," said Schley, in a thin, anemic, authoritative sort of way. "Play football yourself?"
"Sure—if any one will kick me," said McNab, who in fact had a sort of roly-poly resemblance to the necessary pigskin. "Lord, I'm no strength-breaker. I'm a funny man, side-splitting joker, regular cut-up—didos and all that sort of thing. What are you out for?"
"A good time first, last, and always."
"Am I? Just ask me!" said McNab explosively; and in a justly aggrieved tone he added: "Lord, haven't I slaved like a mule ten years to get there! I don't know how long it'll last, but while it does it will be a lulu!"
"My old dad gave me a moral lecture."
"Sure. Opportunity—character—beauty of the classics—hope to be proud of my son—you're a man now—"
"That's it."