Each one had brought from home certain trophies—mementoes of school life—and these soon adorned the walls. Then there were banners and pennants, sofa cushions—the gift of certain girls—and photographs galore.
“Well, I call this some nifty little joint!” exclaimed Dunk, stepping back to admire the effect of the photograph of a pretty girl he had fastened on the wall.
“It sure is,” agreed Andy, who was himself putting up a picture.
“I say, who’s that?” asked Dunk, indicating it. “She’s some little looker, if you don’t mind me saying so.”
“My sister.”
“Congrats! I’d like to meet her.”
“Maybe—some day.”
“Who’s this—surely not your sister?” asked Dunk, indicating another picture. “I seem to know her.”
“She’s a vaudeville actress, Miss Fuller.”
“Oh, ho! So that’s the way the wind blows, is it? Say, you are going some, Andy.”