A bath, a brisk rubdown, and breakfast put Buddy in fairly good fettle once more; so marked was his improvement, in fact, that Gray envied him his glorious gift of youth.
"Flying pretty high, aren't you?" the elder man inquired, with a wave of the hand that took in the expensive suite.
"Well, I ain't exactly broke."
"True. But I know what these rooms cost. That's going strong for a lad like you."
"You took 'em, didn't you, when you had less 'n I got?"
"Ahem! It is embarrassing to be held up as an example. I've done a good many things, Buddy, that I wouldn't like to see you do."
"If they wouldn't hurt me any more 'n they've hurt you I'd like to try'em."
"Another proof that you are still in short pants. I'm a bad person to copy. By the way, why did you quit school?"
Buddy considered his reply, then: "I reckon it was because of them short pants you speak about. I can't stand bein' laughed at, Mr. Gray. It comes hard to stand up in a class along with a bunch of children and make mistakes and have a little boy in a lace collar and spring heels snap his fingers and sing out in a sweet soprano, 'Oh, tee-cher!' Then have him show you up. They put me in with a lot of nursin' babes. What the hell? I weigh a hundred and ninety and I got a beard!"
"Didn't you learn anything?"