“Oh! Well, I was going to say that you happened along when I was in just a nice mood for a scrap, Des—Des——”
“Desmarais. Seems to me it was you who happened along, though. I was sitting there in that canoe doing a little thinking when you came out of nowhere and slammed into me. I reckon I was rather ugly about it, but I was feeling out of sorts just then——”
“So was I! Fact is, I was getting homesick, er— Say, what’s your first name? I can’t get the twist of that one.”
“Leon.”
“Leon, eh? Mine’s Monty Crail. There’s more of it, but that’s enough. What’s your class?”
“Upper Middle.”
“I’m in the Lower. I’m one of those backward chaps you read about, I guess. Old Whiskers, who put me through my paces this morning, says I can get into the Upper Middle next term if I try hard, and I mean to try, but, gee, I’m up against a tough proposition, I guess. About all I know of German is that you have to gargle when you talk it! You been here long?”
“About twenty-four hours.”
“What? Are you a new fellow, too? Say, it’s sort of funny our running across each other like this, isn’t it? I’m right cheered up about it, Lon. I guess they’re right when they say misery loves company. You don’t mind my calling you Lon, do you? I never was much good at French.”
“I’d prefer to have you put the ‘e’ in,” replied Leon, “if you don’t mind. Is Monty your real name or just an abbreviation?”