"Why, Egghead, howdy-do?"
"Ah, there, Butsey White!"
"Ta-ta, Saphead."
"See you later, old Sport."
"Four o'clock sharp, Texas."
Under the trees, curled in the grass, a group of three were languidly working out a Greek translation.
"Skin your eyes, Dink," said Butsey White, waving a greeting as they passed. "See the fellow this side? That's Flash Condit."
"The fellow who scored on the Princeton Varsity?"
"Oh, you knew, did you?"
"Sure," said Stover with pride. "Gee, what a peach of a build!"