_ CHAPTER XII. ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
A WEEK after these events, returning on a Saturday morning from the last vexations of the curriculum with the expectant thrill of the opening of the baseball season, Skippy was amazed to receive, by the hands of Klondike, the colored sweep, a scribbled note in the familiar handwriting of his sister:
DEAR JACK:
Miss Green and I and a party of girls are down for
the game. We're at the Lodge. Come right over and
bring Arthur.
SIS.
His first emotion was one of horror; had they been up to the room, and was his duplicity forever at the mercy of a sister's gibes? Klondike reassured him. He bounded upstairs, made a hasty survey, found everything in order, and hastily departed for the Lodge, after a quick plunge into the glorious buckskin vest, a struggle into a clean collar and a hurried dusting off of his shoes against the window seat. He reached the parlors of the Lodge on the heels of Snorky Green, who, being as thoroughly bored by the prospect as he, forgot the week's feud in a common misery.
"Gee! Aren't sisters the limit?"
"Well, we're in for it."
"Let's hope they clear out before dinner."
The next moment Skippy was perfunctorily pecking at the cheek of Miss Clara Bedelle and pretending to be overjoyed at the prospect of parading before the assembled school with six young ladies in tow. Then he looked up and something like a cataleptic fit went through his body.
Directly in front of him, evidently waiting for the introduction, was unmistakably Miss Mimi Lafontaine! He looked at Snorky and saw the same expression of horror over his pudgy features, as he came up, knees shaking, to be introduced in turn.
Then to Snorky's distressed soul came the welcome sound:
"Jack, dear, I want you to meet Mimi--Miss Lafontaine."
To the amazement of sisters and friends, said Snorky, advancing with outstretched hand:
"Hello, you old Skippy!"
Skippy clung to it as to a spar in midstream.
"Snorky, old dear--it's all right."
"It is?"
"You bet it is!"
"What are you idiotic boys doing?" said Sister Green.
"Shall we tell?" asked Snorky roguishly.
"Women have no sense of humor," said Skippy, grinning with a great easement of the soul.
At this moment they rose above the vexations of the female intrusion. They looked at each other and each comprehended the other. They were equals, equal in imagination, in audacity and expedient. This mutual revelation cleared away all past misunderstanding and jealousies. The sense of humor was triumphant. They loved each other.
A half-hour later, having, to the utter amazement of sister No. 1 and sister No. 2, rolled hilariously, arms locked, across the campus, they lay on opposite beds, struggling weakly to master the pangs of laughter which smote them like the colic.
"Are we going to tell our real names?" said Skippy at last.
"Let's."
"You know, Bo, you certainly had me going--you certainly did. And all these months, too! Snorky, I bow before you."
"Allow me," said Snorky admiringly.
"Say! You're all right, but honest now," said Skippy, pointing to Snorky's bureau and the feminine galaxy, "honest, who are they?"
"Well, of course one's my sister," said Snorky, grinning. "I swiped these three and I bought the other with the frame. Say, I'm not worried about how you got yours, but what I'd like to know is, who in tarnation belongs to that boudoir cap?"
"My grandmother, and she's a corker, too!"
They clasped hands and Snorky announced solemnly:
"Skippy, old fellow, let 'em have all their old skirts; there's nothing like the real thing, the man-to-man stuff, is there?"
"You bet there isn't."
"And say, I'm sorry about that souvenir toothbrush, honest I am, and I think you're a wonder, I do."
"Oh, that's all right. That's all right," said Skippy, embarrassed. "There's a lot of money in it, but I guess I prefer to make my pile in other ways." _