“No, but it looked like a perfectly good—”
“I guess they hypnotized you, Cal,” sighed Ned, beginning to dress himself. “Don’t let the other fellows see it, please; take it off right now before anything happens to it.”
Cal obeyed. He didn’t for a moment resent Ned’s criticism, for the suspicion that his purchase was not all he had thought it had already taken hold of him. Besides, it was awfully nice to have Ned talk to him, even if he was cross. He got into his old suit again, folded the new one back into the pasteboard box and tied it up.
“I guess you don’t have to go with me, Ned,” he said.
“Don’t I? I wouldn’t trust you to buy a—a paper collar after this! You bet I’ll go with you!”
So after breakfast they started off together, Cal with the big box under his arm. Now that the matter was settled they seemed to have nothing more to say to each other and trudged along in perfect silence for the first quarter of a mile. Cal would have liked to talk. His resentment, he discovered to his surprise, had disappeared and his liking and admiration for Ned, which, he saw now, had only been smothered out of sight, made him want to get back again to the old friendly footing. When they turned into the cross road Cal summoned courage and spoke.
“It’s good of you to bother, Ned,” he said.
“Why?” asked Ned grimly. “When I pay for anything I want it decent; that’s all.” The tone was decidedly ungracious, while the more Cal pondered the words the less he liked them.
“When you pay for anything?” he repeated questioningly.