“He’s a dandy chap,” he added heartily, as the instructor passed on toward his room in the next dormitory. Poke nodded.
“One of the best. That’s why Plato’s the best society in school. What time is it?”
“Nearly one,” replied Gil, with a yawn.
“Don’t suppose we can get anything to eat here, eh?”
“Not likely. We might try, but as we’re not supposed to come until after dinner, I guess it would look pretty cheeky.”
“Right-O! Besides, it will be more fun eating in the village. Aren’t you going to unpack?”
“Yes, but there’s no hurry. Let’s get dinner now, Poke. We’ll go to Reddy’s; he has the best eats.”
“Got you! But wait until I get some of this mess picked up. How’s that for a swell suit of glad rags, Gil?” Poke held up the jacket for inspection. It was perceptibly green in color and decidedly “loud” in style. Gil grunted.
“If you had a gray silk hat you could march in the minstrel parade with that, Poke. Bet you sent your measurements by mail with a ten-dollar bill.”
Poke looked highly offended, and draped the garment over the back of a chair. Then he drew away and admired it silently.