Frank. "Don't you think he is a peach?"

Bill, forced to answer the question, made a frank but reluctant reply.

"No," he said. "I think he is a pill." He shook his head.

"You are a queer one!" said Frank. "It don't look as though you had any
sporting blood in you. I suppose because he smokes naughty cigarettes--"

"It isn't that," said Bill, frowning. "He is just plain _foolish_ to
smoke. Why, he is undersized and underweight now for his age, and every
time he smokes he checks his growth. It is up to him. I bet he has had
it explained to him a million times by each teacher and tutor he has
ever had just how smoking will harm him and dope up his brain, so if he
wants to miss out on athletics and all that, and look like a boiled
mosquito in the bargain, let him go to it. _I_ don't care. It's not that
I don't like about him. It is the way he thinks and talks. Where does he
live when he is at home?"

"Detroit," said Frank.

"You would think he owned the whole world!" grumbled Bill. "And
_squaring_ his sister!"

"Oh, well," said Frank, "you have a queer way of looking at things. I
don't think you are giving the fellow a fair deal. Perhaps he _does_
talk pretty big, but on the other hand he has a lot to talk about. Think
of it: a fellow only the age of us and he has a couple of automobiles of
his own and is going to have an airplane. Gee, I am glad I can manage a
plane! I have got him there."

"It's all right, I suppose, for him to gab all he wants to about his
cars and things. By the time we go back to the Post to-night, if we see
him again, I'll bet you he tells us what his father is worth and just
how many gold chairs they have at his house."

"You are sore," said Frank loftily.

"What at, for goodness' sake?" demanded Bill. "I wouldn't swap the
little Swallow for all the cars he ever had or will have. We have more
fun in our little cooped-up quarters over at the School than he ever
thought of with his scraps with his sister. I guess I am sore a little,
Frank. I am sore because he came butting in and spoiled our whole
morning. Let's forget him for awhile. I want to take mother's watch to a
jeweller and then we will hunt up a good restaurant and have lunch. It
is on me."

Frank followed in silence. He knew Bill was right, but the stranger had
dazzled him. He wished bitterly that his father was a rich manufacturer
instead of a poor army officer. The traveling they had had, the
wonderful sights they had seen al