"Didn't you and Dave call on Vera and Mary one night last week?" he added, after a long pause.
"Why—er—I passed Mary's house and spoke to her at the gate for a few minutes," stammered Phil. "Dave was with me, but he didn't stop—said he wanted to post a letter to his sister."
"Didn't he go to Vera's house?"
"No. I don't think he has seen her since that ball game at Oakdale."
"Is that really true, Phil?"
"I believe it is, Roger. And now see here, old boy, what is this trouble between you and Dave? I'm your chum and I'm Dave's chum, too, and I think I have a right to know."
"Why don't you ask Dave? "
"He says he doesn't know—at least, he says the trouble all comes from you—no, I don't mean that either, I mean Hang it, Roger, what do I mean?"
At this outburst the senator's son had to laugh, and Phil laughed also, and both boys felt better for it. There was a pause.
"I guess I've been—been—well, jealous, Phil," said Roger. "I—I thought Dave was sweet on little Jessie Wadsworth"
"So he is."
"And then he got acquainted with Vera Rockwell, and—and"
