“Booze Arts, Harvard,” said Ducky. “Not graduated yet.” “Man staying here in the Windsor with you--was staying here, gone now--used a lot of words I don’t quite savvy.” Neighbor leaned forward, blinking earnestly. “What is the precise distinction between a mutt, a simp, a gink and a boob? And what did he mean by saying all the time, ‘I should worry!’?” Ducky placed the tips of his fingers accurately together, and held his head on one side, birdwise, pursing his lips precisely. “The phrase I should worry is derived from the Hebrew verb to bibble, meaning to worry--I should bibble; you should bibble; he or she should bibble. Plural: we should bibble; ye should bibble; they should bibble. “Mutt, simp, gink and boob are scientific terms employed rather indiscriminately by philosophers of an idealistic tendency. Broadly speaking, the words denote one whose speech, manner, education, habits or clothes differ in any respect from your own; categorically, a thinker whose opinions and ideals do not correspond in every particular with your own. Exactly equivalent terms are--in religion, heretic or infidel; in politics, demagogue, blatherskite!” “Thank you,” said Neighbor humbly. “Myself, I understood him to mean almost the same thing as a sucker; because this fellow--it was the K. C. Kid, that sat on your left--he spoke of you and me being mutts and simps, and all them things; and at the same time he said we’d been swindled, cheated or skinned in that little poker game.” Ducky made a passionate comment. “That alley-goat could sure stack the cards. He showed me that,” said Neighbor, and related the painful story of the K. C. Kid’s flitting. “We are the victims of the highly accomplished fact,” said Roger. “We can’t very well squeal; but can they do this to us with the well-known impunity?” “No,” said Neighbor; “they cannot. I’ll make a note of it. We’ll not squeal and we’ll not cheat; but we’ll give ’em their come-uppances someway. I do not, as a general thing, hold myself up for the admiration of the good and wise; but I must say that I’ve always got what I went after if I wanted it hard enough.” “‘Don’t flinch; don’t foul; hit the line hard!’” said Roger. The words snapped like a lash. “Who said that? He did? Good for him once! And I want this, hard. When I get my auger in I’ll give it another twist for you, Mr. Ducky, in case you are not here. You haven’t lost much anyhow. That’s funny too! Huh! Our tinhorn friend noticed that. Seems like they didn’t want to rob you; and yet your wool was enough sight longer’n mine. I don’t get the idea. I like to understand things as I go along.” “I won away quite a wad, all right; but you might say I wasn’t a loser at all compared to what I was two or three nights ago. I was certain-lee in bad!” Ducky performed a hospitable rite. “Well, we’ll have to give up poker at Beck’s. Here’s how!”