“Great!” exclaimed Ned. “Why don’t you do it oftener?”
“Do what?”
“Laugh. It’s very becoming.”
“Why, I—I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do; it’s because you’re a New Englander. You ought to practice laughing. I had to. Now I can do it almost without an effort. Where were we? Oh, yes, you said your name was Kendall. That’s a good name, Bendall Kurtis. Mine’s Ted Nook—no, I mean Ned Tooker. Call me Ned. I foresee that we’re going to be pals, Curt.”
Kendall tried to think of something to say, and Ned came to his rescue:
“I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that I’m too blamed friendly. Oh, yes, you are! But don’t let it worry you. I used to be like you before I threw off the shackles of New England reserve. If I liked a fellow I threw bricks at him. Now if I like him I say so right out in my engaging manner and it saves time. But you haven’t told me yet what you did to get the Office down on you.”
“I—I don’t believe I can,” said Kendall. “It isn’t my secret alone, you see.”
“Dine and fandy!” cried Ned. “Curt, I love you! You not only have a sense of humor, but you possess a Great Secret. I’m positively daffy about secrets. Keep it to yourself as long as you can, but I give you fair warning that I’ll have it out of you sooner or later. I shall live for nothing else, Curt!”