"Say, it's you who ought to be arrested, Chet!" broke in Andy, coming to the relief of his chum.
"Me? What for, I'd like to know?" asked the dude, as he finished polishing the tan ties with the brilliant handkerchief.
"Why you're dressed so 'loud' that you're disturbing the peace," was the laughing reply "You'd better look out."
"Such—er—jokes are in very bad taste," sneered Chet, whose parents were in humble circumstances, not at all in keeping with his dress. In fact, though Chet thought himself very stylish, if was a "style" affected only by the very vain, and was several years behind the season at that.
"You're a joke yourself," murmured Frank. "It wasn't Bob's fault that the clam fell on you, Chet," he added in louder tones.
"Why not, I'd like to know?"
"Because you are so brilliant in those togs that you blinded his eyes, and he couldn't see to shovel straight; eh, Bob?"
"I—I guess that's it. I didn't mean to," murmured Bob.
"Well, you'll pay for having my shoes shined just the same," snapped Chet, as he restored his handkerchief to his pocket with a grand flourish.
"Whew! What's that smell?" cried Andy, pretending to be horrified. "I didn't know you could smell the fish fertilizer factory when the wind was in this direction."