“Don’t rush off,” said Bert. “Well, come around again, Jimmy.”
Probably the invitation was meant to include Dud, but Hugh thought that Dud might not interpret it so and added cordially, “Yes, do, fellows!”
On the way downstairs Jimmy said: “Well, we got out of that pretty well, Dud. I thought for a while you were going to spoil everything by monopolizing the conversation the way you did, but——”
“I don’t seem to know what to talk about,” said Dud ruefully. “I guess Ordway thought me an awful ass.”
“Well, he rather pointedly invited you to come back, so I don’t think you need to worry about that. The next time——”
“There won’t be any next time,” interrupted the other. “It’s just like you said, Jimmy. I can’t mix and there’s no use trying.”
“Oh, yes, there is! We’ve just started. That was the—the entering wedge, so to say. We’ll drop around again next week. And between now and then I’ll put you through a course of sprouts, old chap. We’ll mix in society. Just as soon as you can learn to forget your plaguey self, Dud, you’ll get on finely. The trouble is with you that you just sit and worry about what fellows are thinking of you. But I’ll break you of that quick enough.”
“I guess we’ll call it off,” muttered Dud.
“And I guess we won’t,” was the firm response. “Having set my hand to the plow, Dudley, I never look back. That’s me. My full name is Grim Determination. All others are impostors. Accept no substitutes. Guaranteed to comply with the Pure Food Law. After you, Dud. One flight and turn to the right, please.”