d Hillton afterward, and if I met
Gardiner or 'Wheels' I'd take the other side of the street."

"Oh, you would?" cried his room-mate. "You're trying to make yourself
out a little fluffy angel, aren't you? And I suppose I'm not good enough
to associate with you, am I? Well, if that's it, all I've got to say--"

"But," continued Neil equably, "if you accept Brill's offer, so will I."

Paul paused open-mouthed and stared at his chum. Then his eyes dropped
and he busied himself with a stubborn stocking. Finally, with a muttered
"Humph!" he gathered up his clothing and disappeared into the bedroom.
Neil turned and smiled at the flames and, finding his own apparel,
followed. Nothing more was said. Paul splashed the water about even more
than usual and tumbled silently into bed. Neil put out the study light
and followed suit.

"Good-night," he said.

"Good-night," growled Paul.

It had been a hard day and an exciting one, and Neil went to sleep
almost as soon as his head touched the pillow. It seemed hours later,
though in reality but some twenty minutes, that he was awakened by
hearing his name called. He sat up quickly.

"Hello! What?" he shouted.

"Shut up," answered Paul from across in the darkness. "I didn't know you
were asleep. I only wanted to say--to tell you--that--that I've decided
not to go to Robinson!"

CHAPTER III

IN NEW QUARTERS

Almost every one has heard of Erskine College. For the benefit of the
few who have not, and lest they confound it with Williams or Dartmouth
or Bowdoin or some other of its New England neighbors, it may be well to
tell something about it. Erskine College is still in its infancy, as New
England universities go, with its centennial yet eight years distant.
But it has its own share of historic associations, and although the big
elm in the center of the campus was not planted until 1812 it has shaded
many youths who in later years have by good deeds and great
accomplishments endeared themselves to country and alma mater.

In the middle of the last century, when Erskine was little more than an
academy, it was often called "the little green school at Centerport." It
is not so little now, but it's greener than ever. Wide-spreading elms
grow everywhere; in serried ranks within the college grounds, in smaller
detachments throughout the village, in picket lines along the river and
out into the country. The grass grows lush wherever it can gain hold,
and, not content with havi