A little more than a week after his engagement at the “show house” had terminated, and he had made the senior class at the “Fifth Avenue High,” Billy Bennett’s ringing voice came over the wire.
“Is Mumps there?” it asked, and Sydney heard it across the room.
“Tell your friend a better name to call you; that is a sick one. I smell the drug store now!” Mrs. Schmitz laughed as she put down the receiver and started out.
“Billy To-morrow can call me any old name; he’s all right!” Sydney shouted after her; and into the telephone he cried, “Hello, Billy To-morrow! What’s up today?”
“The Queen says you’ve turned her down. She’s all fussed up because you refuse to come to her party. She can’t think what she’s done to disquiet you.”
The Queen, otherwise Bess Carter! The one girl of all girls for Sydney. Yet he could never hold up his head when she spoke to him; and if he saw her coming he always edged away.
“She’s done nothing but all right, Billy. She’s always to the good; but I—I—oh, hang it! You know, Billy, I’m no girl’s guy.”
“Rats! You don’t have to be a girl’s guy to go to her party. Haven’t we all played together as kids? Roughed it together at camp, and worked together at the school rallies? It’s just a chin-fest along the same old lines with a little music and dancing thrown in; a lot rather. And she wants the quartette.”
“Gee!” Sydney said no more, but his inflection carried assent.
“All right. I thought you’d see it that way.”