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When this elicited no response, he said further, "But people who live in tin boxes shouldn't have mothers! Some of your possessions, my good fellow, were—were—well, I blushed for you, I did really. That drool by Professor Whosis, for example——"

"Where's the letter now?" Jock demanded. "Have you got it?"

"No."

"Then mother has. What's she doing with it, making a house-to-house canvass?"

"Wrong both times. Your mother hasn't the letter, and she's not making a house-to-house canvass. There are ways and means more efficacious—whew, efficacious!" Beyond this word Bones seemed unable to proceed. He repeated it several times with growing enthusiasm, and looked to Jock for plaudit and praise. "How 'bout that? Ain't she a lulu? Efficacious! Say, did I make that up or did Webster? Reminds me of the game we used to play when we were kids—you know, like this: 'Mr. and Mrs. Kashus and daughter Effie Kashus——"

"Ass!" bellowed Jock. He was beginning, despite him, to feel blissfully light of heart. He wanted to laugh. His chest ached with captive laughter. And so he bellowed "Ass!" in a great voice and glowered at Bones with all the ferocity he could assume. "Where is that letter?"

"The—oh, the letter. Why, Pink Davis took it to math class. You know," Bones raised his voice slightly, "how math class is. The boys have to do something to while away the time. Pink and I thought they might as well be reading the letter as——"

"And where's mother?" Futile question now, for he knew, beyond any doubt.

"If you must know, she's putting the skids under