“That’s it, Hants. His father is English, he says, and his mother American. They live in Maryland now.”
“Nice-looking chap,” said Guy.
Bert nodded. “Yes,” he agreed doubtfully. “Yes, he’s a nice-looking kid, but——” His voice dwindled to silence. Nick laughed.
“Cheer up, old scout! He can’t be awfully British if he has an American mama and lives in ‘Maryland, my Maryland.’ Bet you the sodas he will be singing ‘Dixie’ when you get back!”
“More likely ‘Rule Britannia’ or ‘God Save the King,’” replied Bert ruefully. After a moment: “He’s got awfully smooth manners,” he added grudgingly. “Makes me feel like a—an Indian.”
“Wish he might have kept Bowles here with him,” said Nick regretfully. “It would have given Lothrop a lot of class!”
“I liked what I saw of him,” said Guy, “and I guess you’ll take to him when you know him better, Bert. Anyway, he’s a gentleman. You might have been saddled with a regular mucker, you know. We get one now and then.”
“Stop looking at me,” said Nick.
“Oh, he’s a gentleman, all right,” laughed Bert. “That’s the trouble. I’ve got to live up to him, don’t you see? I dare say he will put on a dinner jacket and stuff his handkerchief up his sleeve. He makes me feel like an awfully rough, uncivilized sort of fellow.”