Page:The plastic age, (IA plasticage00mark).pdf/24

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12
THE PLASTIC AGE


“The Nu Delts. Phew! High-hat as hell.” 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 passed out a couple of years ago.”

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

In an instant Carl was on his feet, his flashing eyes dimmed by tears. “My old man was the best scout that ever lived—the best damned old scout that ever lived.” His sophistication was all gone; he was just a small boy, heartily ashamed of him¬ self 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 hit the hay.”

“You said it!”