That night Fatty told his unwilling mascot the bad news. "I'm sorry, Prof," he said genially. "It's only one more term, then I'll be done with math, and you can go back to your disc. By my last course is with old Totient, and he's rough."
"You promised!" the professor squealed angrily.
"This time I mean it, honest."
"Hey, Fatty," a fraternity brother objected, "ain't you gonna leave the prof to our gang? Just cause you're through—" He broke off in confusion as Irv kicked his ankle, hard.
"Ignore the jerk," Lece reassured the crestfallen rabbit. "When Fatty and I finish our math requirement, you're on your own again. Course, you'll have to promise not to tell the President!" Over the professor's head he winked broadly at his friends.
"I won't do it! It's a cad's trick!" The rabbit's brown eyes were bright with rage.
Fatty pawed his soft fur with one lardy hand. "C'mon, Prof, be a sport," he urged, greasily affectionate. "We like you a lot. You wouldn't let us down now."
"I—will—not—do—it! You promised—"
"You will, too!" Irv grunted. "Don't give us any backtalk. If I have to twist your ears—"