very often folks who don't seem sensitive are actually the very sensitivest of all. And I am quite sure that if Kewpie thought Laurie had—had deserted him—"
"Hey, hold hard, Polly! Gee, I haven't deserted the poor prune. I—I've been busy lately and—and—well, that's all there is to it. Gosh, I like Kewpie. He's all right, isn't he, Ned?"
"Yes. Look here, Miss Chairwoman and Ladies and Gentlemen of the Convention, the only thing that's wrong with Kewpie is that he doesn't know what to do with himself. Ever since he stopped playing football he's been like a chap who's lost his job and can't find another one. Of course, at first it wasn't so bad, for Christmas vacation was coming. But for the last couple of months he's just sort of mooned around, getting sore-headed because he couldn't make the basket-ball team or the hockey team or anything else. Give the old chap something to do and he'll snap out of it. He comes over here and fills up on pastry and stuff because he hasn't anything better to do and has a sweet tooth, anyway. Laurie and I have told him often enough that he ought to cut it out, but he says he doesn't care
