"Well, Trotty," said Harry after the incubus had departed, dropping a perfect shower of invitations to New York, Newport, Palm Beach, the Adirondacks and the Scottish moors; "what about it? Is the beautiful Junius, friend of dukes and scion of Crusaders, an obnoxious, unhealthy little vermin, or isn't he?"
"I suppose he is. My, but he was fun, though! But he's going to make the Dramatic Association after Christmas, for all that."
"Oh, yes. He'll make whatever he sets out to make, straight through. Nobody here will ever see through him. He doesn't often give himself away as he did to-night, of course. He talks up to each person on what he thinks they'll like; to Josh Traill, for instance, he'll talk about football, and to an æsthetic type, like Morton Miniver, on Japanese prints and Maeterlinck's plays; and to you on the Glee and Mandolin Clubs.... He has already, hasn't he? Don't attempt to deny it; your blush betrays you! That's the way his type gets on here; talk to the right people, and don't talk to any one else, and in addition do a little acting or whatever you can, and it'll go hard if you don't make a senior society before you're through.... He's clever, too; he'll make it, all right. You see, he only gave himself away to me because he talked on a subject where breeding counts, as well as knowledge.... It was rash of him to try the duke and duchess stuff; he'd much better have stuck to track, or something safe."
"See here, Harry," said Trotwood, rising to go, "I grant you that Junius has given himself away and that he's a repulsive little beast, and all the rest of it, but don't you think that you are taking the incident just a little too seriously? It's an obnoxious type, all right, but it's a common one. There are bound to be a few Juniuses in every bunch of three or four hundred fellows wherever you take them; Oxford, or anywhere else. Why bother about them? Let them blather on; they won't hurt you, as long as you know them for what they are. And if Junius, or one of his kind, gets too aggressive and unpleasant, all you have to do is reach out your foot and stamp on him. But don't let him worry you!"
"How wise, how uplifting, how Browningesque!" breathed Harry in satirical admiration. Trotty winced slightly and made for the door. "Don't be a fool," Harry added, running after his retreating friend and grabbing him. "You're dead right about all that, of course, as you always are when you take the trouble to use your bean. There's just one thing, though, when all is said and done, that irritates me. Junius at Yale ends by making his senior society, in spite of all. Junius at Oxford doesn't! Do you know why? Because there aren't any senior societies there!"
CHAPTER IX
A LONG CHEER FOR WIMBOURNE
Harry did eventually bestir himself to the extent of hiring a locker in the track house and going out and "exercising," as he called it, three or four afternoons a week. He enjoyed it, but he obviously did not take it very seriously. He was neither good enough nor enthusiastic enough to attract the attention of the coach and captain, and it was something of a surprise to all concerned when he took a first place in the low hurdles in the fall meet and became entitled to wear his class numerals.
"Fine work," said the captain, a small and insignificant-looking senior, who could pole vault to incredible heights without apparent effort. "Macgrath tells me you haven't come within two seconds of your time to-day in practise."