This conversation took place on the Sunday evening succeeding the Mapleton game. That it was Sunday explained Humphrey’s presence at home, for he spent most of his evenings in or around the Central Billiard Palace, so far as Ira could make out. Humphrey had heard from home and was once more in funds. He had promptly returned Ira’s loans and paid his share of the furnishings, laughingly explaining that he wanted to keep his credit good as he would probably have to borrow again soon. Ira wished that he would spend less time in the town and more in the third floor back room at Maggy’s, for there were already indications of impending trouble between Humphrey and various instructors. But Ira decided that Humphrey had better learn his own lesson from experience. Humphrey was not the sort one could offer suggestions to, no matter how excellent or well-meant they might be. Of late the roommates had got on very well. Ira was certain that there had been no more cigarette smoking in the house and was fairly sure that Humphrey had given up the habit entirely. Perhaps it was because Ira was getting used to the other, but it seemed to him that he could detect an improvement both in Humphrey’s manners and appearance. When the latter wanted to be pleasant he could be very pleasant, and at such times he was rather a likable sort.
Ira went across to Williams as soon as breakfast was over the next morning and found both Gene Goodloe and Fred Lyons at home. When he had explained his mission both fellows dived into closets and trunks and in about three minutes Ira was outfitted. Fortunately, the pair of well-worn trousers were Fred’s, for had they been Gene’s they would never have answered. The jacket was practically new, one that Gene had purchased two years before with visions in mind of making his class team. It didn’t lace quite close across the chest, but answered well enough for the present. The shoes were Fred’s, and save that each had one or more cleats missing, were in very good shape. The brown jersey, with leather pads at elbows and shoulders, was Gene’s, and, while it fitted a bit too soon, promised to conform in time to the physical proportions of the new wearer. A pair of stockings alone was wanting. Fred found some, but after exposing the heels he discarded them. However, stockings were a small item, and as for a sweater, Ira had a perfectly good one that had never been worn. It wasn’t brown, but Fred said that wouldn’t matter a bit.
The only trouble obtruded when Ira broached the subject of price. Neither boy wanted to consider payment. “Why, the things aren’t worth ten cents,” declared Gene. “I’d never use mine, and Fred’s got more togs at the gym than he can wear!”
“But I can’t just—just walk off in them,” protested Ira. “I’d rather buy them, if you don’t mind.”
“But we do mind!” said Gene. “We’d blush to take money for them. Look at Fred. He’s blushing already!” Ira couldn’t detect it, however, and resolutely draped the garments over the back of a chair as he took them off.
“I guess I’ll have to buy them at the store then,” he said regretfully. “I’m awfully much obliged to you, but I can’t take them unless you let me pay for them.”
“Oh, don’t be a silly chump!” begged Gene. But Fred interposed.
“If you feel that way about it, Rowland, why, we’ll take your money, of course. A couple of dollars will settle with me and I guess Gene won’t want more than a dollar.”
“A dollar!” jeered his roommate. “He can have them for fifty cents.”