“What sort of a cap?” asked John with signs of a vanishing temper.
“Cloth cap, of course.”
“Never wear them.”
“Well, you will here. You’ll have to get one. You can wear one of mine today. I’ve got two or three, if I can find them. If I were you I’d stick that straw in the furnace.”
“What for? What’s the matter with it?” demanded John, eyeing his new acquaintance aggressively over the edge of the towel.
“It looks like a last year’s bird nest,” replied Ned firmly. “Now don’t get huffy. I’m telling you things for your own good, old man. You don’t want to go around having fellows laugh at you, do you?”
“No, but—”
“Well, they will if you don’t tog up like the rest of us. Here’s the cap. Now stick this belt around— Gee, you haven’t any loops on your trousers, have you? Never mind. Pull it tight and it’ll be all hunky. Get a move on, Boland; it’s most five.” Ned went to the window and called. “Oh, you Fungus!” There was an answering hail from below. “Going to take him over to Horace now?” continued Ned. “’Cause if you are we’ll go together. What? All right. In about five minutes.” He turned and surveyed the rehabilitated John with critical and frowning regard. “That’s better,” he announced, the frowns clearing away. “You look more like now, old man. Can’t be too careful about your togs, you know. As old Shake said, ‘The attire doth oft proclaim the man,’ or something like that. Let those trousers come down another inch if you can. That’s the stuff. Now, then, grab that cap and come ahead.”
In the hall they came upon The Fungus and young Parker. The latter was a slim, pink-cheeked, diffident boy of thirteen who was evidently taking his advent at Oak Park very, very seriously and was rather overwhelmed by his sudden plunge into the boarding school world. The four left the house and struck off through the park in the direction of the principal’s residence, the chimney of which John had spied for an instant above the trees. Ned and The Fungus walked together, leaving the two new arrivals to get acquainted in their own fashion. Claire Parker was visibly embarrassed and John was so intent on his own thoughts that it was not until they had left West House well behind that he considered the conversational demands of the situation. Then he turned and found the younger boy observing him with shy and eager brown eyes which were instantly lowered.
“I cal’late you and me’d might as well get acquainted,” said John kindly. [“My name’s John Boland. What’s yours?”]