ould have
liked to enlighten him. Unfortunately, complete confidence in such
cases is sometimes as embarrassing as the relations between father and
son. The Roman, pondering, twisted a paper-cutter and frowned in front
of him.

"Stover," he said at last. "I have talked with the Doctor. He has seen
best to approve of your election."

Dink, of course, perceiving the hesitation, went out gleefully,
persuaded that the decision was gall and wormwood to his inveterate
foe.

The last day of school ended. He drove to Trenton in a buggy with
Tough McCarty as befitted his new dignity. He passed the Green House
with a strange thrill. The humiliation of a year before had well been
atoned, and yet the associations somehow still had power to rise up
and wound him.

"Lord, you've changed!" said Tough, following his thoughts.

"Improved!" said Dink grimly.

"I was an infernal nuisance myself when I landed," said Tough,
President of the Woodhull, evasively. "I say, Dink, next year we'll be
licking the cubs into shape ourselves."

"That's so," said Stover. "Well, by this time next year I probably
won't be so popular."

"Why not?"

"I'm going to put an end to a lot of nonsense," said Dink solemnly.
"I'm going to see that my kids walk a chalk-line."

"So am I," said McCarty, with equal paternity. "What a shame we can't
room together, old boy!"

"That'll come in the Upper, and afterward!"

They drove sedately, amid the whirling masses of the school that went
hilariously past them. They were no longer of the irresponsible; the
cares of the state were descending on their shoulders and a certain
respect was necessary:

"Good-by, old Sockbuts," said Tough, departing toward New York.
"Good-by, old geezer!"

"Au revoir."

"Mind now--fifteenth of July and you come for one month."

"You bet I will!"

"Take care of yourself!"

"I say, Tough," said Dink, with his heart in his mouth. McCarty,
laden with valises, stopped:

"What is it?"

"Remember me to your mother, will you?"

"Oh, sure."

"And--and to all the rest of the family!" said Dink, who thereupon
bolted, panic-stricken.

XXIII

When John Stover, President of the Kennedy House, arrived at the
opening of the new scholastic year, he arrived magnificently in a
special buggy, his changed personal appearance spreading wonder and
incredulity before him. He was stylishly encased in a suit of tan
whipcord, with creases down his trousers front that cut the a