“It will probably die of loneliness,” said Sid comfortingly, “so don’t trouble about it. Just you take my advice and let Dick alone. I’ll tell you right now that I shan’t help you in any of your nefarious plots, Blash.”
“That’s all right. I think I’ll be able to work this alone.” Blash stared thoughtfully at the light and a slow smile overspread his lean countenance. “Yes, I think I shall,” he added with conviction.
Sid looked across suspiciously. “I’ve a good mind to warn him against you,” he said; “tell him to look out for plots.”
“Piffle! You mind my own business. I’m not going to hurt Dick. Besides, I—I haven’t got it quite. It—it eludes muh!”
“I hope it’ll continue to elude you. Now, for the love of Pete, shut up and let me study, will you?”
“Sure! I didn’t ask you to stop studying. Think your conversation is interesting to me? Go on and study. I’m going to Sohmer.”
“Stan’s?”
“I might drop in there. Come over when you’re through with that rot. What you want to bother with it for is more than I know, anyway. You’re just making it harder for the rest of us!”
When, a half-hour later, Sid joined his room-mate in Number 14 Sohmer, he found to his relief three boys amicably and unemotionally discussing the prospects of the college football teams. Blash, however, looked horribly pleased and innocent, and Sid’s suspicions returned. He always suspected Blash when he looked innocent.