asked Tom. "Did he--say anything?"

"No. I didn't want any trouble with him to-night and so I made believe I
didn't see him."

"That's the stuff," Tom approved. "I guess if we leave him alone he
won't bother us."

"I'm likely to bother him before I get through with him," replied Steve
darkly as they left the building. "He can't shove me around as he did
and get away with it!"

"Oh, come, Steve!" expostulated Tom patiently. "You know very well you
shoved him first. What's the use of being sore about that?"

"He bumped into me," denied Steve. "I didn't shove."

"Well, you gave a mighty good imitation of it," replied Tom drily.
"Seems to me it was about an even thing, and I'd forget it, Steve."

"Maybe you would," muttered Steve, "but I don't intend to."

CHAPTER XVII

THE BLUE-BOOK

It was almost half-past nine when they got back to the room. An hour in
the society of Roy and Harry had done wonders for Steve's spirits, and
on the way upstairs he cheerfully announced that he intended to tackle
that geometry before he went to bed. As Tom switched the light on,
Steve's glance encountered a piece of paper on the floor. It had
evidently been slipped in under the door.

"Who's this from?" he muttered as he bore it to the table. "Someone was
too lazy to open the door and come in."

"What is it?" asked Tom, bending over Steve's shoulder.

"It's from that idiot Durkin," chuckled the latter. "'Got just what you
fellows need. Shoe-blacking stand, two brushes, all complete. Cheap.
Come and see it. P. Durkin.'"

"A shoe-blacking stand!" laughed Tom. "Say, he must have seen your
shoes, Steve."

"Must have seen yours, you mean!" Steve crumpled the note up and dropped
it in the basket under the table. "I guess we don't want any more of
Mr. Durkin's bargains."

"Still, this 'Morris' chair turned out pretty well," said Tom, settling
himself in it with a book. "And perhaps if we had that thing you'd keep
your shoes looking better."

"Well, there's one thing about my shoes," returned Steve good-naturedly,
"and that is the heels are blacked. Which is more than you can say of
yours, my smart young friend."

Tom was about to deny the imputation when footsteps sounded in the
corridor and there came a knock on the door.

"Come in," said Tom very politely. That step could only be Mr. Daley's,
he thought. And when the door opened he found his surmise correct. Mr.
Daley looked more nervous and embarrassed than usual