“Your idea of looking cheerful is to grin like a codfish all the time,” growled Myron. “I’d rather look the other way.”
“Huh! Ever have a good look at a codfish, kiddo? He looks as sour as—as you do this minute! Has his mouth all drawn down, you know. Maybe he’s a real merry sort of a guy when he’s in the water, but he sure doesn’t look that way when he’s out of it!”
“Never mind how I look,” said Myron sharply. “And cut out that ‘kiddo.’ I’ve spoken about that often enough.”
“Oh, all right. My error.” Joe winked gravely at the lamp. After a moment he asked: “When’s that furniture of yours coming?”
“I don’t know. It should have been here before this. Why?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering. I was looking at a room on Union Street this afternoon. A fellow’s got it now, but the dame says he’s going to move out next week. I’d have to furnish it myself, of course. I suppose furniture costs a good bit, eh?”
“Some of it,” answered Myron.
“Maybe I could get some second-hand things, though. I wouldn’t need much. The trouble with the dive is that it has only one window and that looks out on a back yard full of washing. There’s something sort of—of dejecting about a lot of clothes on a line. Don’t know why, either. How’d you like the game?”
“All right, I guess.”