“Catalogue of what?” asked Monty.
“School catalogue, you idiot.”
“Oh! Let’s have a look.”
“Go and get one of your own. They have them at the office. I want to send this one home, and don’t want it mussed up.”
“Snakes, but you’re an obliging hombre! Take your old catalogue, and fall out the window with it, will you?”
“Can’t you get one of your own, I’d like to know?”
“Maybe, if I mention your name. Standart, every day I associate with you I discover some new and lovable quality.”
“Oh, go to the dickens!” muttered Alvin.
Instead, Monty went in to see Joe Mullins. He ate an exceptionally hearty supper as a result of his exertions on the gridiron, and after chatting for awhile on the front steps, made his way through the early darkness across the campus to Lothrop. He was feeling in particularly good spirits this evening, and very kindly toward the whole world, and as he climbed the slate stairway to Number 14 he wondered smilingly what new absurdity Jimmy had thought up for the Clan to accomplish. Had he known what awaited him he would have smiled less genially.