bouquet of flowers along.
The bouquet was done up in several thicknesses of tissue paper. Some
of his friends who were jokers got hold of that bouquet and fixed it
up for him. He gave it to the girl, and when she took off the tissue
paper what do you suppose she found? A bunch of celery and some soup
greens! He was so fussed up he didn't know what to say, and he got out
in a hurry."

"Hurrah for the chaps who fixed up the bouquet!" cried Phil. "But
start up, Luke. Something in which we can all join."

"But not too loud," cautioned Roger. "Old Haskers might not like----"

"Oh, hang old Haskers!" interrupted Phil. "He can't----"

"Sh-sh!" came from Dave, suddenly, and silence fell on the group of
boys. All turned towards the doorway leading to the hall. There, on
the threshold, stood the instructor just mentioned, Mr. Job Haskers.

CHAPTER VI

PHIL SHOWS HIS STUBBORNNESS

Not one of the boys knew how to act or what to say. All wondered if
Job Haskers had heard his name mentioned.

If the ill-natured instructor had heard, he made no mention of it. He
looked sharply about the apartment and waved his hand to Luke.

"Watson, how many times have I told you that you make too much noise
with your musical instruments?" he said, harshly. "You disturb the
students who wish to study."

"I thought this was the recreation hour, Mr. Haskers," answered the
lad, who loved to play the guitar and banjo.

"True, but I think we get altogether too much of your music," growled
the instructor. He turned to Dave, Roger, and Phil. "So you are back
at last. It is high time, if you wish to go on with your regular
classes."

"We told Doctor Clay that we would make up what we have missed, Mr.
Haskers," answered Dave, in a gentle tone, for he knew how easy it
was to start a quarrel with the man before him. As Phil had once said,
Job Haskers was always walking around "with a chip on his shoulder."

"And how soon will you make up the lessons in my class?" demanded the
instructor.

"I think I can do it inside of ten days or two weeks."

"That won't suit me, Porter. You'll have to do better. I'll give each
of you just a week--one week, understand? If you can't make the
lessons up in that time I'll have to drop you to the next lower
class."

"Oh, Mr. Haskers!" burst out Roger. He knew what that meant only too
well. They would not have a chance to graduate that coming June.

"I'll not argue the point, Morr. I'll give you a wee