“Austen,” asked Russell, sobering, “what are you doing this for?”
“This? Oh, you mean this. We-ell—” Jimmy blinked. “I don’t know, Russell. I thought it was because I liked your—your pep and wanted to help you out. But I’m not sure that it isn’t really because I want a lark!”
“Well, it’s mighty decent of you, anyway,” replied Russell. “It gets me out of a hole. You see, I like football, Austen, even if I’m not very much good at it, and it was sort of hard not to play this fall. Still, I wouldn’t have thought of doing it if Gaston hadn’t got after me. Now I’m wondering whether I’m going to play because I think it’s my duty to or just because I really want to!”
“Jove,” said Jimmy, “you’ve got a regular Puritan conscience, Emerson! What’s it matter? The main thing is that you’re going to. Now sit down and tell me about things at the store. You give a discount to our chaps, don’t you? Well, how about high school students?”
“Just the same,” said Russell. “I thought we’d better. They might get sore if we didn’t.”
“I see. Still, I don’t believe Crocker does.”
“All the more reason why we should, then, Austen.”
“Yes, but— Say, cut out that ‘Austen’ stuff, won’t you? My name’s Jimmy.”
“And mine’s Russell,” replied the other, smiling. “More often just Rus.”