Part 36 (2/2)
”Besides, I'm clean.”
But Gray had seized the phone, and as soon as he had given his order he strode into the bathroom and turned on the water. He was out again in a moment, then laughingly he dragged the aching Texan from his couch.
”Under you go,” he insisted, ”or I'll wet down your whole j.a.panese flower garden.”
”Some pajamas, ain't they? I got a dozen pairs,” Buddy said, proudly.
”Quick! If you think I'll consent to hang around a lonesome hotel while you sleep, you're mistaken. I can't tell you how glad I am to run into you, Buddy. I'm dying to have a riotous time.”
”Eh?” Briskow turned an inquiring face to the speaker.
”I've been hibernating in the wilderness, sucking my paw and living off my fat, like a bear. I want you to shown me this town.”
A bath, a brisk rubdown, and breakfast put Buddy in fairly good fettle once more; so marked was his improvement, in fact, that Gray envied him his glorious gift of youth.
”Flying pretty high, aren't you?” the elder man inquired, with a wave of the hand that took in the expensive suite.
”Well, I ain't exactly broke.”
”True. But I know what these rooms cost. That's going strong for a lad like you.”
”You took 'em, didn't you, when you had less 'n I got?”
”Ahem! It is embarra.s.sing to be held up as an example. I've done a good many things, Buddy, that I wouldn't like to see you do.”
”If they wouldn't hurt me any more 'n they've hurt you I'd like to try'em.”
”Another proof that you are still in short pants. I'm a bad person to copy. By the way, why did you quit school?”
Buddy considered his reply, then: ”I reckon it was because of them short pants you speak about. I can't stand bein' laughed at, Mr. Gray.
It comes hard to stand up in a cla.s.s along with a bunch of children and make mistakes and have a little boy in a lace collar and spring heels snap his fingers and sing out in a sweet soprano, 'Oh, tee-_cher!_'
Then have him show you up. They put me in with a lot of nursin' babes.
What the h.e.l.l? I weigh a hundred and ninety and I got a beard!”
”Didn't you learn anything?”
Buddy closed a meaning eye, and his pleasant features wrinkled into that infectious smile. ”I'll tell the world I did! After the whistlin'
squabs was asleep in their nests I went out among the whippoorwills an'
the bats. Ain't it funny how quick folks can learn to put up with bad grammar when you got a jingle in your jeans? I guess I've got enough education to do me; anyhow, I can write Ozark Briskow in the lower right-hand corner and that seems to get me by.”
”You wouldn't consent to go back or--have a tutor, like Allie?”
”Who, _me?_” Briskow laughed scornfully.
”Um-m! Merely a suggestion. You are the architect of your own career.”
”I'm fed up on that kind of schoolin', Mr. Gray. I--” Buddy's face reddened, he dropped his eyes. ”I don't mind tellin' _you_--I--It's like this--I kinda got a girl!”
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