t."

"I don't quite get you," said Harry, in puzzled tones. "Is this
Gaffington one of the bulldog profs. who eats freshmen alive?"

"No, he's a fellow from our town," explained Andy, "and he and I are on
the outs. We've been so for a long time. It was at a ball game some time
ago. Our town team was playing and I was catching. Mort was pitching. He
accused me of deliberately throwing away the game, and naturally I went
back at him. We had a fight, and since then we haven't spoken. He's
rich, and all that, but I don't like him; not because I beat him in a
fair fight, either. Well, he went to Yale last year, and I was glad
when he left town. Now I'm sorry he's at Yale, since I'm going there. I
know he'll try to make it unpleasant for me."

"Oh, well, make the best of it," advised Harry, philosophically. "He
can't last for ever. Here comes my eats! Let's get busy."

"So Mort will be a sophomore when you get to New Haven, will he?" asked
Frank of Andy.

"He will if he doesn't flunk, and I don't suppose he will. He's smart
enough in a certain way. Oh, well, what's the use of worrying? As Harry
says, here come the eats."

Adolph staggered in with a well-heaped tray containing Harry's order,
and he and his chums finished their meal talking the while. The evening
wore on, more students dropping in to make merry in Kelly's. A large
group formed about the nucleus made by Andy and his chums. These lads
were seniors in the preparatory school, and, as such, were looked up to
by those who had just started the course, or who were finishing their
first year. In a way, Milton was like a small college in some matters,
notably in class distinction, though it was not carried to the extent it
is in the big universities.

"What are you fellows going to do?" asked Harry, as he pushed back his
chair. "I'm feeling pretty fit now. I haven't an enemy in the world at
this moment," and he sighed in satisfaction. "That rarebit was sure a
bird! Are you fellows out for any fun?"

"Not to-night," replied Andy. "I'm going to cut back and write some
letters."

"Forget it," advised Harry. "It's early, and too nice a night to go to
bed. Let's take in a show."

"I've got some boning to do," returned Frank, with a sigh.

"And I ought to plug away at my Latin," added Chet, with another sigh.

"Say, but you fellows are the greasy grinds!" objected Harry. "Why don't
you take a day off once in a while?"

"It's easy enough for you, Swipes; Latin c