"I said Thorwald the Bitter," repeats Pettigrew. "One of the old Norse Vikings, you know."
"Go on, shoot it," says I. "What's the joke?"
"But there's no joke about it," he insists. "Surely you have heard of the Norse Vikings?"
"Not yet," says I. "I got my ear stretched, though."
"Fancy!" remarks T. Waldo, turnin' to Tidman.
Tidman stares at me disgusted, then hunches his shoulders and grunts, "Oh, well!"
"And now," says Pettigrew, "it's nearly time for Epictetus."
Sounded something like lunch to me, but I wasn't takin' any hints. I'd discovered several things that Waldo didn't care for, money being among 'em, and now I was tryin' to get a line on what he did like. So I was all for stickin' around.
"Possibly," suggests Tidman, smilin' sarcastic, "our young friend is an admirer of Epictetus."
"I ain't seen many of the big games this year," says I. "What league is he in?"