'll get anybody like Dr. Morrison at any of the colleges
we go to?" spoke Ben.

"You can't beat him--no matter where you go!" declared Andy. "He's the
best ever!"

"That's right! He knows just how to take a fellow," commented Tom.
"Remember the time I smuggled the puppy into the physiology class?"

"I should say we did!" laughed Andy.

"And how he yelped when I pinched his tail that stuck out from under
your coat," added Ben. "Say, it was great!"

"I'll never forget how old Pop Swann looked up over the tops of his
glasses," put in Frank.

"Dr. Morrison was mighty decent about it when he had me up on the
carpet, too," added Tom. "I thought sure I was in for a wigging--maybe a
suspension, and I couldn't stand that, for dad had written me one
warning letter.

"But all Prexy did was to look at me in that calm, withering, pitying
way he has, and then say in that solemn voice of his: 'Ah, Hatfield, I
presume you are going in for vivisection?' Say, you could have floored
me with a feather. That's the kind of a man Dr. Morrison is."

"Nobody else like him," commented Andy, with a sigh.

"Oh, well, if any of us go to Yale, or Princeton, or Harvard, I guess
we'll find some decent profs. there," spoke Ben. "They can't all be
riggers."

"Sure not," said Andy. "But those colleges will be a heap sight
different from Milton."

"Of course! What do you expect? This is a kindergarten compared to
them!" exclaimed Frank.

"But it's a mighty nice kindergarten," commented Tom. "It's like a
school in our home town, almost."

"I sure will be sorry to leave it," added Andy. "But come on; we'll
never get to Kelly's at this rate."

The sun was sinking behind the western hills in a bank of golden and
purple clouds. Two miles yet lay between the lads and their objective
point--the odd little oyster and chop house so much frequented by the
students of Milton. It was an historic place, was Kelly's; a beloved
place where the lads foregathered to talk over their doings, their
hopes, their fears, their joys and sorrows. It was an old-fashioned
place, with little, dingy rooms, come upon unexpectedly; rooms just
right for small parties of congenial souls--with tall, black settles,
and tables roughened with many jack-knifed initials.

"We can cut over to the road, and get there quicker," remarked Andy,
after a pause. "Suppose we do it. I don't want to get back too late."

"All right," agreed Tom. "I want to write a couple of letters my