“And no more French!” added Toby feelingly. “And no more clothes to clean, either. I guess it will take me more than a week to get rid of the smell of benzine. I stayed up until after ten last night, Arnold. I wanted to press my own things, but I was too tired. Does this suit look very bad?” “Bad? No, it looks corking,” replied Arnold Deering. “It gets me how you can buy a suit of clothes for about fifteen dollars and have it look bully, when I have to pay twenty-five and then look like the dickens. Look at these togs, will you? You’d think I’d had them two or three years!” “When a fellow hangs his clothes on the floor the way you do,” laughed Toby, “he shouldn’t expect them to look very nice. Why didn’t you bring that up yesterday and let me go over it?” “Because I knew you had more than you could do, T. Tucker. Besides, you never let me pay you, you chump.” “Well, if you’re going to wear your things all mussed up you can pay me all you want to. Say, how much does this cost?” “What?” “Why, this parlor car business?” “Oh, about a half. It’s my treat, like I’ve told you once.” “Oh, no――” began Toby. But Arnold drowned out his protest. “Listen, Toby: you’re coming back to New York the day after Christmas, aren’t you?” “No, that’s Sunday; I’ll come Monday.” “But, hang it, that’s too late! There are piles of things we’ve got to do. Why, that only gives us a week!” “I know, but I’ve got to be at home some of the time, Arn. I thought I’d come up and stay with you from Monday to Saturday and then go back to Greenhaven until Tuesday.” “Oh, feathers! Well, all right, but if you’re going to do that you’ve got to stay with me until day after to-morrow.” Toby smiled and shook his head. “I can’t, Arn, honestly. I wrote mother I’d be back to-morrow afternoon. Besides, I haven’t anything to wear except what I’ve got on. Everything else is in my trunk.” “You don’t need anything else. If you did I could lend it to you. Have a heart, Toby. Why, I haven’t seen you for more than a minute at a time for a whole week!” “That wasn’t my fault, Arn. You knew where to find me.” “Of course, but it’s no fun sitting up in your attic and watching you press trousers or mess around with smelly stuff on the roof. Say, I wrote dad to get some tickets to the theater for to-night. Wonder what he will get them for. I’m going to buy a paper and see what the shows are.”