The clerk replied in low tones, leaning across the counter. Watson grinned.
“What ho, fellows! Luck’s with us! Here’s a new one!” He regarded Rodney jovially. “Doolie says you’re a Maple Hiller.”
“Yes,” replied Rodney pleasantly.
“Fine! Welcome to our school!”
“Thank you,” returned Rodney politely.
“Well, fellows, what’ll you have to-day?” asked the clerk.
“Hold your horses, Doolie. You see,” Watson went on, turning to the newcomer again, “it’s a long-established custom here that new boys have to stand treat. You’re lucky there aren’t any more of us, isn’t he, Tommy?”
“Rather!” agreed a light-haired, freckle-faced boy of about Rodney’s age. “If he doesn’t hurry up there may be.”
“You mean,” inquired Rodney interestedly, “that I’m supposed to buy sodas for you chaps?”