“Get your things out,” counselled Ned. “Dinner isn’t until half-past.”
So Cal unpacked and Ned sat and looked on, his countenance running the gamut of expressions from surprised distaste to hopeless despair. As a matter of fact Cal’s wardrobe wasn’t one to elicit admiration. When the last thing was out Ned sat huddled in speechless disgust. Finally:—
“That’s your closet, Cal,” he said hopelessly. “Put ’em away before anyone comes in, please.”
Cal viewed him puzzledly.
“Why?”
“Oh, I like the room to look neat.” He got up and went to the window and stood for a moment frowning out at the green hill beyond the dusty road. At last, having made up his mind, he turned resolutely.
“Say, Cal, I’m a friend of yours; you know that, don’t you?”
“Why, yes, I cal’late I do,” answered Cal bewilderedly.
“Sure thing, old man. Well, what I’m going to say is for your own good. I don’t want to hurt your feelings or anything, but—[but, honest, Cal, they won’t do!]”