“A friend?”
“Yes.”
“You mean——”
“Now look here!” exclaimed Ikey, and his manner was serious. “You may order me out of your room, and all that, but I’m going to speak what’s in my mind. I want you to make up with Dunk!”
“Make up with him—after what he did to me!”
“That’s all right—I know. But I’m sure he’ll meet you more than half-way.”
“Well, he’ll have to.”
“Now, don’t take that view of it,” urged the kindly Jew. “Say, let me tell you something, will you?”
“Fire away,” and Andy walked over and stood looking out of the window across the campus.
“It’s only a little story,” went on Ikey, “and not much of a one at that. When I was in prep school I had a friend—a very dear friend.