“Once,” said Ira, with a fleeting and reminiscent smile. “I guess every fellow tries it once. I didn’t like it, though.”
“Of course not. You have to keep at it.” Humphrey laughed. “Gee, I was a wreck after my first attempt!”
“Seems to me that anything that has that effect on you can’t be especially good for you,” said Ira.
“Oh, a fellow doesn’t want to just do the things that are good for him. There’s no fun in that. Smoking cigarettes is like—like playing hookey when you’re a kid. You do it because it—it’s a sort of adventure, eh?”
“I suppose so,” agreed Ira. “Well, you’ve had your adventure, haven’t you? You’ve got all the fun out of it. What’s the use of keeping it up?”
Humphrey gazed at Ira thoughtfully. “Gee, that’s a new idea,” he chuckled. “Never thought of that! Maybe you’re right, old scout. Guess I’ll quit cigarettes and try something else. Burglary or—or murder, maybe.”
“Well, don’t practise at home,” laughed Ira. Then soberly: “I wish you’d agree to call it off on the cigarettes, though, Nead.”
“Oh, when you ask me nicely like that,” answered the other, “I don’t mind, I guess. But I won’t stand being bullied.” He blustered a bit. “You can’t scare me into doing things, Rowland, and you might as well learn that first as last.”
“I don’t want to scare you or bully you,” answered Ira. “Sorry if I went at it wrong.”
“Well, you did,” grumbled the other. He sat up and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. Then: “Tell you how you can square yourself, Rowly,” he said. “Lend me a quarter, like a good chap, will you? I’m stony.”