Kewpie's gloom was momentarily dissipated, giving place to an expression of gratification. He hastily elevated a portion of ice-cream to his mouth and murmured deprecatingly, "Oh, well, but—"
"And you know perfectly well," continued the girl, "that pastry and sweets make you fat, and Mr. Mulford won't like it a bit, and—"
It was Kewpie's turn to interrupt, and he did it vigorously. "What of it?" he demanded. "I don't have to stay fat, do I? I've got all summer to train down again, haven't I? Gee, Polly, what's the use of starving all the winter and spring just to play football for a couple of months next fall? Other fellows don't do it."
"Why, Kewpie, you know very well that most of them do! You don't see Ned and Laurie eating pastry here every afternoon."
"Huh, that's a lot different. Nod's out for baseball, and Nid's scared to do anything Nod doesn't do. Why, gee, if one of those twins broke his leg the other'd go and bust his! I never saw anything so—so disgusting. Say, don't I get those tarts?"
"Well, you certainly won't if you talk like that
