“It is nice,” admitted Reddy Burke. “It’s where all the Freshmen like to get, but usually it’s so crowded that you have to go on the waiting list. You’re in luck, Fairfield.”
“Glad you think so. Where do you room?”
“Oh, I put up with the rest of our crowd at the Ball and Bat. That’s our fraternity house you know.”
“Yes, I noticed it when I was down before. It’s a beaut place, all right.”
“Pretty fair. We have some good times there. You must come to some of the blowouts. I’ll send you a card when we get settled, and you know the ropes.”
“Thanks,” replied Tom gratefully. “And now tell me all about Elmwood Hall.”
“Oh land! It would take a week!” exclaimed the red-haired athlete. “There’s lots to tell about it, but I guess you know the history of it as well as I do, if you’ve seen a catalog.”
“Yes, but I mean tell me something about the fellows, and the professors.”
“Well, the professors are no better nor worse than at other colleges, I suppose,” spoke Reddy, with something like a sigh. “They all seem to have exaggerated notions about the value of Greek, Latin and mathematics, though I’ll be hanged if I like ’em. Baseball and football for mine, though I suppose if I’m ever to become a lawyer, which dad seems to think I’m cut out for, I’ll have to buckle down sooner or later, and assimilate some of that dry stuff. It’s time I begin, I reckon.”
“I should think so—if you’re in your Junior year,” spoke Tom with a laugh.