“Oh, dear no! Not so’s you’d notice it. Why, if I went and had that bottle filled again I wouldn’t be under obligations to you, old man. It would be just like using my own witch hazel, wouldn’t it?”
“That’s not funny,” grumbled the other. “You ought to pay me something for what you used. Give me a quarter and we’ll call it square.”
“Standart,” replied Monty severely, “you talk like a Piute. Anybody would think you didn’t want me to have that stuff. If I didn’t know you to be the soul of generosity I’d think you wanted me to pay for it!”
“So I do,” answered Alvin shrilly. “And I want you to quit being funny. You think you’re a regular comedian, don’t you? Well, you aren’t. You make me tired. And I want you to leave my things alone after this. And if you don’t pay for that witch hazel I’ll—I’ll get square with you for it some other way.”
“Listen to me, son.” Monty seated himself on the edge of his bed, and thrusting his hands in his pockets viewed his roommate gravely. “You and I have got to bunk together here. And we’re bound to see a good deal of each other, no matter how hard we try not to. Now, I’m a great believer in being happy whenever it’s possible. And I’m not going to be happy if you annoy me. I’m queer that way. I hate to be annoyed, Standart. It—it riles me. Savvy?”
“I guess I don’t annoy you any more than you annoy me,” sneered Alvin. “I don’t see why I had to have you wished on me, anyway!”
“I’ve wondered the same, son, and I’ve concluded that it’s probably because you needed someone to lead you gently, but firmly toward better things, Standart. You needed someone to cheer you up, I guess. Say, is this grouch of yours something you were born with, or did you just cultivate it?”
“None of your business,” growled Alvin. “You let me alone.”
“I guess it’s an heirloom, then; something that’s been in the family for generations, eh? Well, it’s a good one, only—only the trouble is that I’m likely to find it tiresome, old man. Far be it——”
“Oh, shut up!”