an understood thing between them. They were "pals."

McTeague, listening, heard Marcus go up-stairs to his room above. In a
few minutes his door opened again. McTeague knew that he had come out
into the hall and was leaning over the banisters.

"Oh, Mac!" he called. McTeague came to his door.

"Hullo! 'sthat you, Mark?"

"Sure," answered Marcus. "Come on up."

"You come on down."

"No, come on up."

"Oh, you come on down."

"Oh, you lazy duck!" retorted Marcus, coming down the stairs.

"Been out to the Cliff House on a picnic," he explained as he sat down
on the bed-lounge, "with my uncle and his people--the Sieppes, you know.
By damn! it was hot," he suddenly vociferated. "Just look at that! Just
look at that!" he cried, dragging at his limp collar. "That's the third
one since morning; it is--it is, for a fact--and you got your stove
going." He began to tell about the picnic, talking very loud and fast,
gesturing furiously, very excited over trivial details. Marcus could not
talk without getting excited.

"You ought t'have seen, y'ought t'have seen. I tell you, it was outa