“Narrower blade? But that’s a forward stick, T. Tucker. You want a stick for defense, don’t you? You can use this one at point or goal, either one. Those narrow blades won’t stop a puck the way the wide ones will. And it’s light, too, and has a peachy grain. I’ve got some tape you can have, so you needn’t buy any.”
So the matter was eventually settled, and the salesman, who had long since wearied of standing by, returned and accepted Toby’s fifty-cent piece and offered to wrap the stick up. But Toby preferred to carry it unwrapped so that he could examine the grain and swing it speculatively and admire it to his heart’s content. After that Arnold bought a bottle of glue, half a dozen pencils, a pair of garters and three bananas, and Homer purchased a red-and-green necktie which attracted his attention away across the street and a book with a splashy cover entitled “Dick Dareall in the Frozen Seas.”
“That doesn’t sound like sense,” objected Arnold when they were outside again. “If he was in the frozen seas he’d be stuck tight, wouldn’t he?”
“Maybe he was,” said Homer. “Or maybe I’m the one who’s stuck.”
“That sounds fair,” agreed Arnold. “Say, he must have had a fine time playing hockey, eh? I guess those frozen seas would make a dandy rink?”
They induced Homer to unwrap his necktie for their re-examination, and Arnold pretended to be frightened and dashed wildly into the street and was almost run over by an express truck. Toby secretly admired that vivid tie very much and wanted one just like it, but it was more fun pretending that it made him feel squirmy and faint. Homer wasn’t in the least disturbed by their criticisms, however.
“It’s just envy,” he said tranquilly. “You’d both mighty well like to have it. Besides, it has the green of old Broadwood, and you know how I love the dear old school.”
As usual, they found a sprinkling of Broadwood boys in the drug store when Toby stood his modest treat. They were really quite nice looking chaps, but Homer insisted that they showed every indication of degeneracy. “Observe the sloping foreheads,” he whispered, “and the weak chins. Also the vacant expression of the eyes. Still, these aren’t so bad, really. They only let the best looking ones out.”
“I know,” replied Arnold gravely. “They tell me,” he went on, raising his voice, “that they’re starting post-graduate courses at Broadwood.”
“That so?” inquired Homer, in the encouraging tone of an interlocutor in a minstrel show.