wded
through the doorway, and the conversation continued in rapid
crossfire.

"Who's seen the Waladoo Bird?"

"Jock Hasbrouck's dropped into the third form."

"What do you think of the electric lights they've given us?"

"They've stuck an arc light in the Circle, too."

"We'll fix that."

"How's the new material, King?"

"Rotten!"

"Think we've a chance for the House championship?"

"A fine chance--to finish last."

"Say, who do you think they've stuck us with?"

"Who?"

"Beekstein."

"Suffering Moses!"

"Never mind. We've got the Dink."

"What's he do?"

"He's the champion truckman--carry your trunk for you anywhere you
want."

Dink, thus brought unwillingly into the conversation, blushed a warm
red.

"Truckman?" said P. Lentz, mystified.

"Champion," said Finnegan. "The mysterious champion truckman of Broad
Street Station, Philadelphia. Stand up, Dink, my man, and twitch your
muscles."

Stover squirmed uneasily on his chair. There was no malice in the
teasing, and yet he was at a loss how to turn it.

The Gutter Pup, as president of the Sporting Club and chief authority
on the life and works of the late Marquis of Queensberry, examined the
embarrassed Stover, running professional fingers over his legs and
arms.

"You're the fellow who tried to fight the whole Green House, aren't
you?" he said, immensely interested.

"Why, yes."

"Good nerve," said the Gutter Pup. "You've got something the style of
Beans Middleton, who stood up to me for ten rounds in the days of the
old Seventy-second Street gang. I'll train you up some time. You'd do
well with the crouching style--good reach, quick on the trigger and
all that sort of thing. Like fighting?"

"Why, I--I don't know," said Stover helplessly, unable to make out
whether the Gutter Pup spoke in jest.

"Modest and brave!" said the irrepressible Finnegan.

The conversation drifted away; Stover, with a sigh of relief,
obliterated himself in a corner, feeling immense distances between
himself and the laughing group that continued to exchange rapid
banter.

"Dennis, they tell me you're fresher than ever."

"Sir, you compliment me."

"Say, Boru, have they put you on the bottle yet?"

"Not yet, Lovely. Waiting for you to drop it."

It was not particularly brilliant, but it was good-natured, and there
was a certain trick to it that he had lost in the long weeks of
Coventry.

Presently the group departed to take the keen edge off the