Part 1 (2/2)

Hugh dropped his suit-cases and shook hands. ”Guess I can stand it,” he said with a quick laugh to hide his embarra.s.sment. ”Maybe you'll need a little of G.o.d's help yourself.” Diffident and unsure, he smiled--and Peters liked him on the spot.

”Chase yourself,” Peters said easily. ”I know a good guy when I see one.

Sit down somewhere--er, here.” He brushed a pile of clothes off a trunk to the floor with one sweep of his arm. ”Rest yourself after climbing that G.o.dd.a.m.n hill. Christ! It's a b.a.s.t.a.r.d, that hill is. Say, your trunk's down-stairs. I saw it. I'll help you bring it up soon's you've got your wind.”

Hugh was rather dazzled by the rapid, staccato talk, and, to tell the truth, he was a little shocked by the profanity. Not that he wasn't used to profanity; he had heard plenty of that in Merrytown, but he didn't expect somehow that a college man--that is, a prep-school man--would use it. He felt that he ought to make some reply to Peters's talk, but he didn't know just what would do. Peters saved him the trouble.

”I'll tell you, Carver--oh, h.e.l.l, I'm going to call you Hugh--we're going to have a swell joint here. Quite the darb. Three rooms, you know; a bedroom for each of us and this big study. I've brought most of the junk that I had at Kane, and I s'pose you've got some of your own.”

”Not much,” Hugh replied, rather ashamed of what he thought might be considered stinginess. He hastened to explain that he didn't know what Carl would have; so he thought that he had better wait and get his stuff at college.

”That's the bean,” exclaimed Carl, He had perched himself on the window-seat. He threw one well shaped leg over the other and gazed at Hugh admiringly. ”You certainly used the old bean. Say, I've got a h.e.l.l of a lot of truck here, and if you'd a brought much, we'd a been swamped.... Say, I'll tell you how we fix this dump.” He jumped up, led Hugh on a tour of the rooms, discussed the disposal of the various pieces of furniture with enormous gusto, and finally pointed to the photographs.

”Hope you don't mind my harem,” he said, making a poor attempt to hide his pride.

”It's some harem,” replied Hugh in honest awe.

Again he felt ashamed. He had pictures of his father and mother, and that was all. He'd write to Helen for one right away. ”Where'd you get all of 'em? You've certainly got a collection.”

”Sure have. The alb.u.m of hearts I've broken. When I've kissed a girl twice I make her give me her picture. I've forgotten the names of some of these janes. I collected ten at Bar Harbor this summer and three at Christmas Cove. Say, this kid--” he fished through a pile of pictures--”was the hottest little devil I ever met.” He pa.s.sed to Hugh a cabinet photograph of a standard flapper. ”Pet? My G.o.d!” He cast his eyes ceilingward ecstatically.

Hugh's mind was a battle-field of disapproval and envy. Carl dazzled and confused him. He had often listened to the recitals of their exploits by the Merrytown Don Juans, but this good-looking, sophisticated lad evidently had a technique and breadth of experience quite unknown to Merrytown. He wanted badly to hear more, but time was flying and he hadn't even begun to unpack.

”Will you help me bring up my trunk?” he asked half shyly.

”Oh, h.e.l.l, yes. I'd forgotten all about that. Come on.”

They spent the rest of the afternoon unpacking, arranging and rearranging the furniture and pictures. They found a restaurant and had dinner. Then they returned to 19 Surrey and rearranged the furniture once more, pausing occasionally to chat while Carl smoked. He offered Hugh a cigarette. Hugh explained that he did not smoke, that he was a sprinter and that the coaches said that cigarettes were bad for a runner.

”Right-o,” said Carl, respecting the reason thoroughly. ”I can't run worth a d.a.m.n myself, but I'm not bad at tennis--not very good, either.

Say, if you're a runner you ought to make a fraternity easy. Got your eye on one?”

”Well,” said Hugh, ”my father's a Nu Delt.”

”The Nu Delts. Phew! High-hat as h.e.l.l.” He looked at Hugh enviously.

”Say, you certainly are set. Well, my old man never went to college, but I want to tell you that he left us a whale of a lot of jack when he pa.s.sed out a couple of years ago.”

”What!” Hugh exclaimed, staring at him in blank astonishment.

In an instant Carl was on his feet, his flas.h.i.+ng eyes dimmed by tears.

”My old man was the best scout that ever lived--the best d.a.m.ned old scout that ever lived.” His sophistication was all gone; he was just a small boy, heartily ashamed of himself and ready to cry. ”I want you to know that,” he ended defiantly.

At once Hugh was all sympathy. ”Sure, I know,” he said softly. Then he smiled and added, ”So's mine.”

Carl's face lost its lugubriousness in a broad grin. ”I'm a fish,” he announced. ”Let's. .h.i.t the hay.”

”You said it!”

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