"They fired me for kissing a teacher."
"A teacher?"
"The drawing teacher," said Stover hastily, perceiving the danger of the new assertion.
The old boy looked at him hard, gave a sort of grunt and, turning his back, took up again the interrupted task of shaving. Stover, a little dismayed at his own audacity, sought to conciliate his future roommate.
"Mister White, I say, where'll I stow my duds?"
No answer.
"I'm sorry—I didn't mean to be fresh. Which is my bureau?"
The razor, suddenly extended, pointed between the windows. Stover, crestfallen, hastily sorted out the contents of his bag and silently ranged collars and neckties, waiting hopefully for a word. Suddenly he remembered the properties of the Pennsylvania Railroad and, sorting out the signs, he advanced on Butsey White, saying:
"I brought these along—thought they might help decorate the room, Mr. White."
Butsey White gazed at the three stolen signs and grunted a somewhat mollified approval.