“I don’t have to think it over. You ‘ain’t’ right.” Myron laughed contemptuously. “You think——”
“Yeah, I’m likely to say ‘ain’t’ when I get excited,” replied Joe, “but I’ll get over that in time.”
“You think that just because I wear decent clothes I’m stuck-up,” protested Myron hotly. “I’ve never said or pretended that I am better than—than any one else! As for rooming with you, I explained that. I was to have a room to myself. That was understood.”
“All right,” said Joe soothingly. “But when you found you couldn’t be by yourself why didn’t you face it like a sport! And why turn up your nose as if they’d asked you to bunk in with the Wild Man of Borneo?”
“I’d just as lief,” sputtered Myron. “He wouldn’t be any wilder than you are!”
“Yeah, but wait till you see me in those new duds we ordered,” said Joe pleasantly. “Maybe you’ll be real proud of me then. Wouldn’t wonder if you’d almost speak to me when there’s other fellows looking!”
Myron flushed and his eyes fell. “That’s a rotten thing to say, Dobbins,” he muttered.
“True, though, ain’t—isn’t it?”
“No, it isn’t!”
“My mistake then. Sorry. Well, I’m for the old bed. I suppose I might have kept my mouth shut and minded my own business, like you said, but that mess of talk’s been sort of accumulating ever since we came together and I feel better for getting rid of it, whether you do or not! Sorry if I said anything to hurt your feelings, Foster.”