“Hang it, Sam, finish what you started to tell us!” cried Step.
Sam hesitated. Among the lessons he had been learning was that Safety First might be as advisable in speech as in action. Besides, he wished to be fair. It might not happen that any of the club would have a great deal to do with Varley, but he was well aware that a few careless words might prejudice all of them against the newcomer.
“Why—why, I’ve talked hardly half an hour with him altogether. He seemed to be good-natured.”
“Didn’t he ride his high horse for you?”
“Not much—very little,” said Sam. “Of course, he comes from a big city. And he’s been at big ‘prep’ schools. And he’s used to the rush, and crowds, and all that sort of thing. I don’t know, though, that he tried to rub it in—that we aren’t crowded here, I mean. And he did seem friendly—got to say that for him.”
“Up here for his health, isn’t he?” queried Step. “Gay life knocked him out, didn’t it?”
“He didn’t put it that way. He said he was rather run down, and so his folks shipped him up here to visit the Bateses—Mrs. Bates is his aunt, you know.”
“How long is he going to stay?”
“I don’t believe it’s settled.”
“Huh! He’s rigged out as if he were on a polar expedition.”