“Does he wear a wrist watch?” asked Nick.
“No, he has it on a fob. And, say, fellows, if you want to see some swell things, come up and give his dresser the once-over! Solid silver everything! Crest, too. Oh, we’re going to be pretty classy in 29 this year, I can tell you!” And Bert sighed.
“I’ll have to look up my crest,” observed Nick thoughtfully.
“Your crest!” jeered Bert.
“That’s what I said. I’ve got a peachy one. Dad had someone make it for him and put it on the automobile doors. It was the proper caper that year to have your crest on your auto, and Dad doesn’t let anyone put anything over on him. I told him I thought a cake of soap, rampant, surrounded by the motto, ‘Won’t dry the skin,’ would be rather appropriate, but he didn’t like it. Dad makes soap, you know.”
“Yes, I do know,” replied Guy. “I tried some of it once. And it didn’t dry the skin, either. It took it off.”
“Well, you’re not supposed to wash your hands with laundry soap,” said Nick. “Of course, if you’re used to that sort, though, and don’t know any better——”
“I suppose,” said Guy gravely, “you’ll have to sort of look after Ordway, Bert, now that he hasn’t any valet; lay out his things in the morning, you know, and put his studs in, and all that.”
“Fine!” approved Nick. “Maybe he will give you a tip now and then. Say, did you pipe the gray suede gloves he wore? Think of gloves on a day like this! Still, noblesse oblige, eh, what?”
“I noticed the stunning Norfolk suit he wore,” said Guy. “I’ll bet that wasn’t cut out by any village tailor down in Maryland.”