“That’s all you know about it,” replied Jimmy tranquilly. “Dud is on speaking terms with about every fellow worth knowing now and before I took him in hand——”
“That’s all right, but I’d rather have a half-dozen real friends than be able to say ‘Hello’ to everyone. All Baker needs is to put his chin up and—and get out and—and mix!”
“Sure!” agreed Jimmy sarcastically. “That’s all! But suppose he can’t do it? Suppose he hasn’t got the—the assurance? Then what? Why, that’s where I come in, do you see?”
“You’re an ass,” laughed Nick. “Baker, you take my advice and discharge your press agent. He’s no good. Anyway, you won’t need him any more.”
“It’s funny about being popular, or whatever you like to call it,” mused Hugh. “Funny, I mean, how some fellows are and some aren’t; and lots of times the popular chaps aren’t the ones you like best, if you know what I mean.”
“Very clear, ’Ighness; almost pellucid,” said Nick. “Just the same——”
“I don’t think I ever wanted to be what you’d call popular,” interrupted Dud. “I never could be, I’m sure. All I did want was to know more fellows and not feel quite so much out of everything. Of course, being a lower middler I dare say it’s cheeky to want to mix with fellows in the upper classes——”
“Don’t see it that way,” said Nick. “Very commendable ambition, I’d call it. Shows a desire to seek—er—refinement and wisdom, and——”
“Oh, let’s get back,” said Jimmy. “I’m freezing to death. Besides, you chaps may say what you like, but I know that without my skillful handling of the case Dud wouldn’t be sitting here tonight listening to you talk a lot of poppycock, Nick. Results are what count, and as a—a press agent, if you like, I’ve produced results. Now someone tell me I haven’t!”
“If you call this a result,” began Nick doubtfully.