"It's the Dink himself," said Dennis, gamboling up. "Welcome to our city!"
"I hear I'm rooming with you," said Stover, shaking hands with the Shad.
"You certainly are, my bounding boy."
"Where's the room?"
"Straight ahead, turret room, finest on the campus, swept by ocean breezes and all that sort of thing."
"Why, Dink," said Dennis de Brian de Boru in affectionate octaves, "you old, slab-sided, knock-kneed, baby-cheeked, wall-eyed, battling Dink. You've grown ee-normously."
"How's your muscle?" said the Tennessee Shad, with an ulterior motive.
"Feel it," said Stover, who had consecrated the summer to the same.
"Hard as a goat," said Dennis after an admiring whistle. "All nice little cast-iron, jerky bunches, ready and willing. Been in training, Dink?"
"Yes, just so."