Then his eyes went back to the book on his knees. The knock was unmistakably that of “Chick” Reeves, and with “Chick” Stowell never stood on ceremony. But when a full minute had passed after the door had closed, without any of “Chick’s” customary demonstrations, such as the overturning of chairs, the wafting of pillows across the room, or the emitting of blood-curdling whoops, Stowell became alarmed for his fellow freshman’s health, and so, after many groans and much exertion, he sat up and put his head around the corner of the big armchair. What he saw surprised him.
The visitor was a stranger; a tall, raw-boned youth of about seventeen, with a homely, freckled face surmounted by a good deal of tousled, hemp-colored hair. His eyes were ridiculously blue and his cheeks held the remains of what had apparently been a generous tan. Altogether the face was attractive, if not handsome; the blue eyes looked candid and honest; the nose was straight and well-made; the mouth suggested good nature and strength of purpose. But it is not to be supposed that Jimmie Stowell reached these numerous conclusions on this occasion. On the contrary, the impression he received was of an awkward, illy-clothed boy holding a small paper parcel.
“Hello!” said Stowell.
The visitor had evidently been at a loss, for the back of the armchair had hidden his host from sight, and he had turned irresolutely toward the door again. Now he faced Stowell, observing him calmly.
“Hello!” he answered. He crossed the study deliberately, unwrapping his parcel as he went.
“Er—want to see me?” asked Stowell, puzzled.
“If you please.” There was no evidence of diffidence in the caller’s manner, and yet Stowell found it hard to reconcile his appearance with that commanding knock at the portal. The blue-eyed youth threw back the wrapping from his bundle and held it forth. Stowell took it wonderingly. Five pairs of coarse blue woolen mittens met his gaze. He frowned and viewed the caller suspiciously.
“What is it,” he growled, “a joke?”
“Mittens,” answered the other imperturbably. “I’m selling them.”
“Oh, I see.” He handed them back. “Well, I never wear them.” He turned toward his chair. “Hang these peddlers!” he said to himself.