“Hello, fellows!” greeted the apparition. “Salutations and everything!”
CHAPTER IV – KEWPIE STARTS SOMETHING
The twins stared silently and suspiciously for an instant. Then Ned made cautious response.
“Hello,” he said, with what must have seemed to the visitor a lamentable lack of cordiality.
The latter pushed the door shut behind him by the kick of one stockinged foot, and grinned jovially. “My name’s Proudtree,” he announced.
“You can’t blame us,” replied Laurie, coldly.
Proudtree laughed amiably. “It is a rotten name, isn’t it? I live across the corridor, you know. Thought I’d drop in and get acquainted, seeing you’re new fellows; extend the hand of friendship and all that. You understand. By Jove, Pringle was right, too!”
“That’s fine,” said Ned, with more than a trace of sarcasm. “What about?”
“Why,” answered Proudtree, easing his generous bulk into a chair, “he said you fellows were twins.”
“Not only were,” said Laurie, gently, “but are. Don’t mind, do you?”
“Oh, come off your horse,” begged the visitor. “Don’t be so cocky. Who’s said anything? I just wanted to have a look. Never saw any twins before – grown-up twins, I mean. You understand.”
“Thought you said you came to extend the hand of friendship,” retorted Ned, sarcastically. “Well, have a good look, partner. There’s no charge!”
Proudtree grinned and accepted the invitation. Ned fumed silently under the inspection, but Laurie’s sense of humor came to his aid. Proudtree appeared to be getting a lot of entertainment from his silent comparison of his hosts, and presently, when Ned’s exasperation had just about reached the explosive point, he chuckled.
“I’ve got it,” he said.
“Got what?” Laurie asked.
“The – the clue! I know how to tell you apart! His eyes are different from yours; more blue. Yours are sort of gray. But, geewhillikins, it must be a heap of fun! Being twins, I mean. And fooling people. You understand.”
“Well, if you’re quite through,” snapped Ned, “maybe you’ll call it a day. We’ve got things to do.”
“Meaning you’d like me to beat it?” asked the visitor, good-temperedly.
“Just that!”
“Oh, come, Ned,” Laurie protested, soothingly, “he’s all right. I dare say we are sort of freakish and – ”
“Sure,” agreed Proudtree, eagerly, “that’s what I meant. But say, I didn’t mean to hurt any one’s feelings. Geewhillikins, if I got waxy every time the fellows josh me about being fat – ” Words failed him and he sighed deeply.
Laurie laughed. “We might start a side-show, the three of us, and make a bit of money. ‘Only ten cents! One dime! This way to the Siamese Twins and the Fat Boy! Walk up! Walk up!’”
Proudtree smiled wanly. “I only weigh a hundred and seventy-eight and three quarters, too,” he said dolorously. “If I was a couple of inches taller it wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I don’t think it’s bad as it is,” said Laurie, kindly. “You don’t look really fat; you just look sort of – of – ”
“Amplitudinous,” supplied Ned, with evident satisfaction.
Proudtree viewed him doubtfully. Then he smiled. “Well, I’ve got to get rid of nearly fifteen pounds in the next two weeks,” he said, with a shake of his head, “and that’s going to take some doing.”
“What for?” Laurie asked. “Why destroy your symmetry?”
“Football. I’m trying for center. I nearly made it last year, but Wiggins beat me out. He’s gone now, though, and Mulford as good as said last spring that I could make it this fall if I could get down to a hundred and sixty-five.”
“Who’s Mulford?” inquired Ned. “A fortune-teller?”
Proudtree ignored the sarcasm. “Mulford’s our coach. He’s all right, too. The trouble with me is, I’m awfully fond of sweet things, and I – I’ve been eating a lot of ’em lately. But I guess I can drop fourteen pounds if I cut out pies and candy and things. Don’t you think so?” Proudtree appealed to Laurie almost pathetically.
“Don’t let any one tell you anything different,” replied Laurie, reassuringly. Ned, evidently recovered from his peevishness, asked:
“What sort of football do they play here?”
“Corking!” answered Proudtree.
“I mean, Rugby or the other?”
“Rugby!” exclaimed Proudtree, scornfully. “I guess not! We play regular football. Nobody plays Rugby around these parts. Are you fellows going out?”
“Not just yet,” replied Ned.
“He means are we going to try for the football team,” explained Laurie. “Yes, we are, Proudtree; at least, one of us is.”
“You?”
“We haven’t decided yet. You see, we’ve never played your kind of football. Back home, at high school, we played American Rugby, and it’s quite different. But we decided that one of us had better go in for football and the other for baseball, if only to do our duty by the school.”
Proudtree looked puzzled. “How are you going to decide?” he asked.
“Oh, we’ll toss up or draw lots or something, I suppose. Maybe, though, Ned had better play football, because I know more baseball than he does. Still, I’m not particular.”
“That’s the limit!” chuckled the visitor. “Say, what are your names? I didn’t see any cards on the door.”
“Turner. His is Laurie and mine’s Ned,” answered the latter. “Do we put our names on the door?”
“It’s the best way,” answered Proudtree. “Well, I’ve got to be moving. I started to take a shower and got side-tracked. You chaps come on over and see me and I’ll get some of the other fellows in. You want to meet the right sort, you know. What’s your class?”
“Lower middle, I reckon,” said Ned. “That’s what we expect.”
“Too bad you can’t make upper. That’s mine. We’ve got a corking bunch of fellows this year. Well, see you later. Try for Mr. Barrett’s table when you go down. That’s the best. Maybe they’ll put you there if you bluff it out. You understand. So long, fellows.”
Proudtree withdrew with considerable dignity in view of his bulk, waving a benedictory hand ere the door closed behind him. Ned shook his head. “Sort of a fresh hombre,” he said.
“Oh, he only meant to be friendly, I reckon,” said Laurie. “You understand.”
Ned laughed. “I’ll bet they’ve got a wonderful football team here if he plays on it! By the way, maybe we’d better settle which of us is to be the football star. I suppose they begin to practise pretty soon. I’ll be the goat, if you like; though you had better luck with that book you bought in Chicago. I couldn’t make head or tail of it. I never saw so many rules for playing one game in my life!”
“It was sort of difficult,” agreed Laurie. “I dare say, though, that you pick up the rules quick enough when you start to play. If you don’t really mind, I think you’d better go in for football,