“I got B plus for a term mark,” said Sam, complacently.
“Well, I wish you’d explain this formula. I can understand equation 3, but how you get 5 from it, as the book says, is beyond me.”
It wasn’t a difficult thing to explain, nor was Duncan as stupid about geometry as he thought himself. Sam turned the clean white pages of the book.
“New?”
“Yes!” ejaculated Duncan, with indignant emphasis, “the third I’ve had this year. It’s a scandal the way books disappear in this school. You might as well throw ’em away as leave ’em out on the hall racks. The last one I had, I put my initials in at the bottom of the next to the last page. If you ever see a book with ‘D. P.’ in it, confiscate it—it’s mine.”
Duncan stopped that afternoon for a few minutes at the room of Fuzzy Woods in Odlin House.
“How’s Shirley?” he asked in the course of gossip. “Done anything queer lately?”
“I guess not,” drawled Woods. “He’s got two or three duels on.”
Duncan giggled. “What for?—insults?”