“Hello,” he said, with what must have seemed to the visitor a lamentable lack of cordiality.
The latter pushed the door shut behind him by the kick of one stockinged foot, and grinned jovially. “My name’s Proudtree,” he announced.
“You can’t blame us,” replied Laurie, coldly.
Proudtree laughed amiably. “It is a rotten name, isn’t it? I live across the corridor, you know. Thought I’d drop in and get acquainted, seeing you’re new fellows; extend the hand of friendship and all that. You understand. By Jove, Pringle was right, too!”
“That’s fine,” said Ned, with more than a trace of sarcasm. “What about?”
“Why,” answered Proudtree, easing his generous bulk into a chair, “he said you fellows were twins.”
“Not only were,” said Laurie, gently, “but are. Don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, come off your horse,” begged the visitor. “Don’t be so cocky. Who’s said anything? I just wanted to have a look. Never saw any twins before—grown-up twins, I mean. You understand.”
“Thought you said you came to extend the hand of friendship,” retorted Ned, sarcastically. “Well, have a good look, partner. There’s no charge!”
Proudtree grinned and accepted the invitation. Ned fumed silently under the inspection, but Laurie’s sense of humor came to his aid. Proudtree appeared to be getting a lot of entertainment from his silent comparison of his hosts, and presently, when Ned’s exasperation had just about reached the explosive point, he chuckled.