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There was a pause. Finally:

“I might run in for a minute,” announced Jack. “I’m going downtown anyway and——”

“Wish you would.”

“Your aunt won’t mind?”

“Of course not. I haven’t much to show you, though. My room’s just a box, you know.”

“That’s all right. We can talk some more. About eight?”

“Before, if you can.”

“Half-past seven?”

“Yes. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. So long, Faulkner.”

“So long. And thanks for—everything.”

Jack laughed shortly. “I haven’t done anything. See you later.”

“Sure!”

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That was the beginning of a friendship that lasted—well, so far as I know, it’s still lasting and seems likely to continue lasting indefinitely. In the course of time the inseparable chums were facetiously referred to as the “two Jays” or the “Joejacks.” Months later each acknowledged, a trifle shamefacedly, since the acknowledgment bordered on sentiment, that he had taken to the other at the moment of their first meeting. That was as near an expression of affection as they came to, but within a week of that day at Proctor’s Pond Joe would have jumped off the top of the Adams Building if by so doing he could have benefited his friend, and Jack would have just as readily plunged into the river from the railroad bridge had a similar result impended. And since Jack at that time couldn’t swim a stroke, his deed would have compared favourably with Joe’s as a token of esteem!