Miss Polly!" and after them the stream became steady for several minutes. Further sustained conversation with Polly being no longer possible, Ned and Laurie took their glasses to the other side of the shop, where Laurie perched himself on the counter and watched the confusion. Ned's eyes presently strayed to the array of pastry behind the further counter, and he sighed wistfully. But as Laurie, who was in training for baseball, might not partake of such things, Ned resolutely removed his gaze from that part of the shop, not without a second sigh, and, turning it to the door, nudged Laurie in the ribs with an elbow.
"Thurston," he breathed.
Laurie looked calmly at the big upper-middle boy who was entering. "Seems put out about something," he murmured.
"Say," demanded "Elk" Thurston in a voice that dominated the noise of talk and laughter and the almost continuous hiss of the soda-fountain, "what smart guy swiped my bicycle and rode it over here?"
Elkins Thurston was seventeen, big, dark-complexioned, and domineering, and as the chatter died into comparative silence the smaller boys
