Skippy looked up wrathfully to perceive the curious eyes of Dennis de Brian de Boru gazing from the transom. Both brushes went flying across the room, but Dennis knew when his presence was _de trop_. The episode shook off the derby and deranged the part. Snorky watched the process of reconstruction with a meditative glance. "Skippy, old horse, you are _so_ spick and span. Has love really come to you?" "You go take a run and jump," said Skippy lightly and he began to whistle a genial air. Now if Bedelle had denied the direct accusation, Snorky would have been certain of its truth, vice versa if the answer had been broadly affirmative, Snorky would have at once dismissed the suspicion. Skippy's light, _de haut en bas_ manner left him unconvinced. Circumstantial evidence was all he had to go on, but the evidence was strong. Skippy undeniably was a changed man. "What day is it?" said Skippy, who had been reading over the letter. "Wednesday, you chump." "Three days to Saturday," said Skippy with a sigh. He went to the washstand, poured out the water and began to scrub diligently at his nails. "Well, you ought to get them clean by that time," said Skippy facetiously. "What's that?" "So you are in love?" said Snorky, shifting the conversation. "What makes you think so?" "Go ahead, open your heart, what's a roommate for?" "You'd be a nice one to confide in! Why not shout it in a telephone?" "Hold up, that's a raw deal," said Snorky rising wrathfully. "I may have weakened under that awful stink, but I kept the secret, didn't I? Didn't I stand up three hours against the whole blooming house and did they ever get a word from me about Mosquito-Proof Socks, and in the state of temper they were too? Oh, I say, come now, square deal you know!" Skippy considered him more favorably. Besides, he remembered that by Saturday he would need to embellish his sartorial display with a few treasures from his chum's wardrobe. He sat down and took his head in his hands. "Snorky, old fellow, you're right--I've got it bad." "And you're going over to Princeton Saturday to meet her?" said Skippy, who saw a trail. "Her, what her?" "Mimi Lafontaine, of course," said Snorky with a sudden intuition. "Her name is Tina," said Snorky tragically. "Her first name. Perhaps some day I can tell you her real name, not now." "Rats, it is Mimi, and you're going over again to meet her at the game," said Snorky, who knew the Skippy imagination. "So you think I'm going to Princeton," said Skippy looking at him wisely. "I am--but from there I am making a cut for New York. Get the point?" "Oh, Tina's in New York?" "She is." He hesitated a moment, and then weighing his words to give full value to their dramatic significance, he added--"She is on the stage." "You're a thundering, whooping, common-a-garden liar," said Snorky, who felt that his sympathies were being trifled with. "Where in blazes would you know an actress anyhow?"