“Do you mean to tell me I don’t treat girls?” he shouted. “Lots of times I treat girls! Sharpies never treat girls, that’s how you know them.”
I said, “Oh, you’re a reckless little spender. The slot machines will land you in the poorhouse some day.”
“High-step Harris,” Brent said.
“That’s better than the one-step,” I said.
Hervey said, “We can’t ’phone here anyway, the ’phone is on the right-hand side of the road. There are only two stores, and one’s a feed store——”
“What kind of feed?” Pee-wee shouted.
“Oats,” Brent said. “Wild oats, the kind you sow, running wild with thirty-four cents in your pocket. I suppose you’ll squander it on the first flapper you meet.”
“I’ll squander it right here in the drug store,” the kid shouted. “And you needn’t go around telling people I don’t treat girls either.”
“Oh, far be it from it,” I said; “only last week a girl told me you were a treat.”
We were just heading over to the drug store where the soda fountain and the ’phone booth were when Hervey said, “Keep to the left.” So just for the fun of it, to keep Pee-wee from getting a soda we followed along after Hervey.