“Dunk!” murmured Andy. “It sounds good to hear him, and to know that there’s not much more danger of our getting on the outs. He sure was worth saving—that is, what little I did toward it. He did the most himself, I fancy.”
“Hello, old top, hard at it?” greeted Dunk, as he entered.
“Have to be,” replied Andy. “You’ve no idea how tough this German is.”
“Oh, haven’t I? Didn’t I flunk in it the other day? And on something I ought to have known as well as I do my first reader lesson? It’s no cinch—this being at Yale. Wonder if I’ve got time to slip down town before we feed our faces?” and he began fumbling for his watch.
“What’s on?” asked Andy, rather idly.
Then, as he saw Dunk giving his shoes a hasty rub, and delving among a confused mass of ties in a drawer, Andy added:
“The witness need not answer. It’s a skirt.”
“A which?” asked Dunk in pretended ignorance.
“A lady. I didn’t know you knew any here, Dunk!”
“Huh! Think you’ve got the preserves all to yourself, eh? Well, I’ll show you that you haven’t.”